Stockholm Syndrome: Absolution
by Lemon Muffins
Summary: Kidnapped at 17. Held hostage. Brought home years later, Bella is different. Are her feelings for her kidnapper the result of the mental affliction Stockholm Syndrome, or are they real? Love and deception aren't always black and white. AU-H, dark themes.
1. Intro

_Summary: Isabella Swan was the victim of a kidnapping when she was seventeen years old. Years later, she is returned home, but she's different than she used to be. She struggles to discover if her infatuation with her kidnapper is the result of the mental affliction Stockholm Syndrome, or if her feelings are the real deal. Love and deception aren't always black and white. Rated NC-17 for extremely dark and mature themes. Based on the album "Absolution" by Muse. AU, AH._

**I'm trying something different with this here story. I'd been working on it for a good eight months before I finally made the decision to post it, so I do hope it's worth the wait. I've seen a wide variety of "Darkward" characters in fanfics, but I've yet to see something quite like this Edward; I'm sure you'll see what I mean soon enough.**

**This story is about the confusion of the mentally unstable, and finding out who you truly are and who you're meant to be with. I think.**

**I hope you enjoy the ride...

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**STOCKHOLM SYNDROME**

**Intro  
**

There was a loud noise in the main part of the house, and I was instantly worried. Edward was always quiet when he got home. I wanted to go check to see if he was alright, but I knew that I shouldn't.

Edward had always warned me about doing things like that. _(Never leave yourself exposed, Bella. If people see you, then people will hurt you.)_

I just sat trembling in the chair in the corner of my room. Waiting, hoping, wishing.

Heavy footsteps were heard overhead. Too many. Edward wouldn't have brought anyone home with him, would he have?

Of course he wouldn't. _(Other people only cause harm, Bella. There's nobody else you can trust. I am all you have, and I am all you'll ever need.)_

I faintly heard them talking above. The vibrations of several deep voices could be felt if I leaned my head against the wall. They weren't even bothering to be quiet. They were coming, just as Edward always warned me they might, and he wasn't even here to save me. He had promised he would always protect me from them.

Had they hurt him before they came here? The thought made me queasy. If Edward didn't stand a chance against them, what hope did I have? How could I save myself, if he couldn't?

What could I do now?

_(Go in your closet, Bella. There's a false back wall with a space just big enough for you to fit in. Stay there until I come for you.)_

Unless they've hurt you, and you can't come for me.

_(I'll always come for you, Bella. I love you always.)_

I took stock in those memories, and followed the directions Edward had given me in case this ever happened. The door inside the closet was built well. I wouldn't have known of its existence if I hadn't been expressly told.

I started to panic when I heard the group hurrying down the stairs. I closed myself in the closet, and pushed the hidden door open. Edward was right. There was just barely enough space for me. I had to squish into the far corner so I could close the door back up, and then I scrambled to find a way to barricade the door in the dark.

_(Never turn on the light in that space, Bella. They will find you if you do.)_

The door to my bedroom slammed open, and voices were everywhere. I pressed my body weight against the door, knowing it wouldn't be enough if someone found this space and tried to force their way in.

"Open the curtains, get some light in here!" called out a voice that I assumed was the leader of the group. "Look under the bed, open that trunk, check the closet-" the man continued to give out orders.

I held my breath and braced myself as I heard the outer closet door open.

"Nothing in here, sir." Echoes of the same phrase were heard throughout the room. I sighed in relief.

"No," the leader spoke again. "This is the only room with perpetually drawn shades, and the others have cleared the rest of the house. Check the floorboards or something."

The outer door closed again, and even though they hadn't given up yet, I was still safe. I tried to tempt myself to sneak into the main closet to perhaps get a peek at the perpetrators, but I knew that the risk wasn't worth it.

_(Don't ever put yourself out there, Bella. Stay hidden. Stay safe. For me.)_

And I would do anything for Edward. I stayed hidden as best as I could. I even held my tongue and didn't scream when I felt a spider crawling on my hand. Edward knew I was deathly afraid of spiders. But I still didn't scream. Instead I cried silently. I really hoped that they hadn't hurt Edward before they came here.

Thatthought made an audible sob escape me, and I instantly regretted it when the room fell silent around me.

"Did you hear that?" the leader asked. Murmurs either of the affirmative or negatory responded before the resounding silence resumed. I winced when the first footstep thunked against the wooden floor, and again when another one stepped closer to me.

They knew I was here.

_(Never let them know where you are, Bella.)_ I'm sorry, Edward.

The outer closet door slammed open again, and I bit my lip to keep from making any noise as I pressed as hard as I could against the hidden door. I had thought that maybe he might only press lightly, and if nothing happened...

I was sorely mistaken. The leader told his men to shut up when one of them tried to say he had already checked the closet.

"Masen had an educational background in construction and architecture. He could have easily..." I heard the sound of my dresses being roughly pushed to the side on their hangers.

Then I saw the faint outline of light coming in through the thin cracks, as if someone was shining a flashlight. My mouth opened in horror.

_(Never let them find you, Bella.)_ I've failed you, Edward.

There was a slight weight against the door, opening it a couple inches. I panicked and pushed with my entire body, slamming it back closed.

"She's in here!" the leader called, and he shoved the door open as I hid behind it. "What the-" he began, seeing the supposedly empty space, and I took the opportunity of his confusion and kicked as hard as possible, hearing a crack as the door hit the face of the intruder as it closed back up.

"Shit!" I heard him say and I gasped. Edward would never approve of that kind of language. The door opened again, and an arm reached behind it to grab hold of me, forcing me out into the open.

The light shined in my eyes so brightly that water leaked out. I hadn't seen a light that intense in years.

_(Keep the curtains closed, Bella. It's not safe to be out in the sunlight.)_

There was a gasp from the person who came barging into my home, destroying my life. I was satisfied to see blood dripping down his russet colored face, and that his nose was broken.

"Isabella Swan?" he asked, looking at me, seeming surprised for some reason.

I was confused. Of course I wasn't Isabella Swan; I was Bella Masen.

But the voice didn't wait for confirmation. The large fellow tightened his grip on my arm and started dragging me out of the room.

_(Don't ever let anyone take you away from me, Bella.)_

"No! NO! Let go of me! Please!" I shouted out uselessly, trying to kick at my abductor.

"I'm bringing you home, Isabella, where you'll be safe. It's going to be okay."

"Leave me alone!" I screamed, kneeing the man hard in the groin.

He crumpled to the floor as I tried to run away, but another set of arms grabbed hold of me. Then another as I continued to struggle. Then a third. Soon I felt a sharp pain on the inside of my elbow, and my movements felt sluggish as my fight stopped.

"I'm sorry, Edward," I slurred as the blackness took over. I had never intended to leave him this way...

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This chapter is short, yes, but that's because it's a sort of prologue. It sets the stage for the entire rest of the story, so I hope you enjoyed it.**

**Please leave your thoughts, questions, and comments. I'll answer you to my best of my ability, my dears.**

**~MuffN.**


	2. Butterflies and Hurricanes

**This chapter is set in the future from the last chapter. In this section you'll see information about Bella's condition, and she'll be learning about it just as you are. I hope it explains things well enough, and yes, those sources are real. I spent quite a bit of time doing research for this story, and now some of my research has become Bella's.**

**Comments from last chapter: most of you are very curious about Edward and his motivations for taking Bella, or if he really _did_ do it in the first place. Yes, he did. He's a psycho criminal. No, I can't tell you about his motivations yet, because I have to introduce the story before getting deep into the plot. Expect an EPOV in the next couple chapters, though. Bella certainly isn't the only narrator of this story.**

**Disclaimer that I forgot to do for last chapter: I do not own Twilight or its characters. I just like finding strange parallels into the story and writing them out.**

**Without further ado, please feel free to read, review, and ENJOY!

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**Stockholm Syndrome**

**Butterflies and Hurricanes**

_Change everything you are_

_And everything you were_

_Your number has been called_

"Can you try harder, Isabella?" he asked, a calmness to his voice that surely belied his irritation with me. I really _was_ trying to cooperate, but it just wasn't coming to me like he said it should have.

"I apologize, Dr. Cullen, but I'm just finding it a bit difficult to remember—and embrace—a time that I don't consider the highlight of my existence."

"Now, Isabella-"

"I know, I know." My own frustration was sure to have exceeded his own. "I know it shouldn't be that way, and I acknowledge that. But if I can't remember what _is_ supposed to be classified as my better life, then how can I compare? Especially when those times have been forcibly removed from my mind?"

_(Forget about all of them, Bella. Only I am important to you now, just as you only you are important to me.)_

Dr. Cullen sighed, brushing his golden hair out of his eyes, not noticing my reaction to the memory. Fortunately.

"This is a very... _disarming_ process for you, isn't it?" he asked, once again showing that sympathetic demeanor that _had_ to have been a ruse as he pinpointed my emotions. None of these people could really be that understanding of my situation, but I appreciated that they tried.

"It is," I responded, smoothing out my skirt as I avoided eye contact. When I glanced up, he was giving me _that look._ I stopped playing with the folds of material and wished I had thought to wear jeans to our session.

"Maybe if-"

He was interrupted by a soft beeping, signaling the end of our time together for the day. He looked at his watch to confirm the time, most likely wondering how we spent two whole hours together with so little progress. But that was how it went with me; I was a "special case".

"I'm sorry," I apologized, just as I did after every session.

"Oh, no! Don't be sorry, my dear!" he exclaimed, just as _he_ did after every session.

I smiled weakly in his direction. I truly did wish that I was making more progress in my recovery.

"I have an idea," he said as he assisted me up from my seat, walking me to the door. "Maybe if you did your own personal research into your condition, it might help you understand more, rather than just trying to hear what I tell you. Maybe that could help you fully comprehend, and then put you on the path to healing. What do you say?"

I forced a smile on my face and nodded, thanking him for his kind suggestion.

And then I walked out of his office, meeting Jacob just in front of the building.

Jacob Black was a tall man, and very handsome, I supposed. As a casual bystander, I could see why women would find him attractive, with his smooth russet skin and chiseled features. His slightly crooked nose that he wore with pride added character to his look and made him approachable to the uninvolved observer—though I ponder if his approachability also had something to do with his rock hard exterior, as well.

The large build of his came from his years of training to be a police officer, and then eventually Seattle SWAT. I could testify that he put those muscles to good use in his line of work...

My thoughts were put on hold when he walked up to me, a large smile on his face. He gave me a big hug, picking me up from the ground and spinning me around. I put my arms around his neck so I wouldn't fall.

Just when I began to feel dizzy, he put me down, his arms on my shoulders to steady me so I wouldn't fall over. And he kissed my forehead. I was learning to accept his affectionate attitude and did not shy away as I did at first, shocked at any man touching me besides the man who I had been with for so many years.

Just as it was difficult to remember my past, it was even more difficult coming to terms with the idea that the highlight of my existence was entirely a sham. That the man who has been the center of my life for so long was really a deranged criminal. But Edward Masen was such a man.

Sick.

Twisted.

Surely volatile, as well.

And I was just beginning to believe it, despite the constant reminders of him and his words.

_(Nothing is wrong with our love, Bella. Nobody can understand our love, because it is different than any other kind.)_

I logically knew that I was kidnapped, yet I still shied away from Jacob ever so slightly at the mental reminder. I knew it was wrong to still crave Edward so strongly, both physically and mentally. I knew I shouldn't still wish I was with him. But I did. His voice in my mind was still my sunshine on a cloudy day, and I still wished that I had a picture of him so that I could remember his flawless face with more clarity, rather than the faded images that presented themselves into my mind.

"How was it today?" Jacob's megawatt smile could even make me grin in return, and I did just that.

"Same as usual," I shrugged.

He looked down at me with so much affection in his eyes, it almost hurt.

I was a terrible person.

And of all the things I knew about my recent past, what I was most aware of was that I suffered _now_.

So I decided to follow Dr. Cullen's suggestion and do my own research into myself, thinking that perhaps seeing the words he'd been telling me over and over again written down in a verified document would help me. Of course I believed what he'd said to me, but who knew what good this could do? I certainly needed more help.

"Jacob?" I asked once we were settled comfortably into his car.

"Yeah?" he said, looking in his mirrors before pulling out into the busy streets of Seattle.

"I was thinking that maybe we could have dinner at your place here in the city tonight. Would that be alright?"

"Yeah! That'd be great!"

"And maybe I could use your laptop as well? Dr. Cullen wanted me to look something up before our next visi... What's wrong?" I interrupted myself, noticing his sudden grim demeanor.

"Nothing, hon. Absolutely nothing. I'm just wondering what to order out."

"You know I can cook for you," I said without thinking. Then I sighed, knowing what was coming up next.

"Um... No, it's fine, Isabella, I don't want you going through the effort. We'll get Chinese from that place we go—uh, _went_ to all the time. That sound good to you, hon?"

MSG? Sodium overdose? Crude flavors?

A place from before I forgot him?

"Sounds lovely, Jacob. I can't wait," I smiled up at him.

I hadn't forgotten everything about my past, but I most definitely had several blank spaces in my memory. It wasn't so much _forgetting_ as _choosing_ not to think about it long enough that you no longer remembered it.

For example: I could see my parents faces in my mind now, and I knew they were my parents the second I saw them... but I couldn't come up with any evidence of such in my mind, almost as if the memories were gone, but the feelings were still there. Though I was slowly beginning to come up with past events I shared with them. That was one thing I _was_ making progress on in my therapy sessions.

Jacob was another story, though. I didn't recognize his face. I didn't have any leftover feelings for him. I hadn't managed to salvage any of our past in my head as of yet. And I _fought_ for those memories—probably more so than anything else I was trying to recover. I _wanted_ to relive our past love affair. I _wanted_ to want him as I once did. He was charming, and handsome, and sweet, and funny, and he pushed me to remember, not just so we could continue where we left off, but so that I could become a functioning member of society again. He wanted me to be my best—for me, and not for anyone else.

So I told him I'd brave the unhealthy food, simply in hopes of recapturing what was lost... However futile the attempt might be.

Yet I was still a mildly upset.

It seemed that I didn't cook before my... _absence._ Or wear skirts. Or grow my hair out long to wear down. Or a dozen other things that had become habit to me, and each and every one of those things made Jacob, my psychologist, and my parents uncomfortable. It wouldn't have been a huge leap to assume that they wanted me to regress back to the child I was at seventeen, despite the fact that almost anyone else would have been expected to change and grow through the years.

I needed to change everything I was and had become. I had hard times ahead, just as I had seemingly had hard times in the past.

It would sound selfish of them to want to change who I had turned into in the years, but I understood their motives; they just wanted proof that what had happened to me wasn't irreversible, that I could be their darling Isabella once again. I had no problem with this, truly. I just had trouble coming to terms with the person they wanted me to become. Again.

We picked up the food on the way to Jacob's apartment and settled in at his table to eat. We used forks, naturally—those chopsticks would have caused far too much of a mess, and they were hardly practical.

The food tasted familiar, and didn't make me gag over the chemicals. Jacob and I were both pleased by this knowledge.

After our meal, Jacob put on a DVD of some cheesy romantic comedy for us to enjoy together and we settled into the couch together, his laptop on my thighs as I browsed online.

Dr. Cullen had, of course, told me all about my mental affliction of Stockholm Syndrome, but the new information I found still made me both relieved and uneasy.

I suppose it was because the different descriptions together formed proof that all of it was in my head.

Stock·holm syndrome (stŏk'hōlm', -hōm')  
_n._  
A phenomenon in which a hostage begins to identify with and grow sympathetic to his or her captor.

The American Heritage® Stedman's Medical Dictionary

This was the simple definition that I already knew, and rationally I could understand how the term applied to myself. I continued on to other sites that might be of more assistance to me.

**Stockholm Syndrome **

1978, a psychologists' term; the name derives from the Aug. 23, 1973,  
violent armed robbery of Sveriges Kreditbank in Stockholm, Sweden,  
after which four bank employees were held hostage in a vault for more  
than five days. The hostages developed a dramatic attachment to their  
abuser, and a fear of would-be rescuers, that they could not explain.

Online Etymology Dictionary, © 2001 Douglas Harper

Yes, this site had much more prudent knowledge on the case, and where the term came from, being an etymology. I could see definite similarities, especially the part about the fear of "would-be rescuers".

I looked over at Jacob's profile as he watched the movie, being polite enough not to look over at the computer screen to see what I was up to. There was the bump in his nose that wasn't there the last time I knew him, caused by me and my fear. He was a nice person, and I hoped it hadn't hurt him very much when I had injured him so.

A slight shiver went up my spine, and Jacob put an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his warm body. I once again didn't shy away from his overly forward actions.

I looked back at the article, once again noting the similarities, though Edward, of course, would never use a gun on myself or others. He thought that violence was a useless action.

**Stockholm syndrome**

–noun Psychiatry.

an emotional attachment to a captor formed by a hostage as a result of continuous stress, dependence, and a need to cooperate for survival.

**Origin:**  
after an incident in Stockholm in 1973, during which a bank employee became romantically attached to a robber who held her hostage

Dictionary(.)com Unabridged  
Based on the Random House Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2009.

As far as I could remember, the relationship between Edward and I _did_ begin with dependence on him for my part, and I'm sure that the stress of our situation _did_ bring us closer together throughout the years... Not to mention the fact that he was all I had.

And at least I knew that I wasn't the only one who had fallen for her captor...

**Other uses **

Loyalty to a more powerful abuser — in spite of the danger that this loyalty puts the victim in — is  
common among victims of domestic abuse, battered partners and child abuse (dependent children).

Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia © 2001-2006

Once again, it was something I could understand.

Looking back, with the assistance of Dr. Cullen, I could see the patterns of abuse with Edward: his overly controlling attitude, his reluctance to share me with anyone (though that also had to do with the fact we were in hiding), as well as the simple fact that he told me to hide in a _closet_ if someone ever came to the door... I also couldn't ignore the fact that I obeyed, not once questioning his actions. This last piece of truth was the one that resonated into me the most.

**Psychoanalytic explanations**

According to the psychoanalytic view of the syndrome, the tendency might well be the result of  
employing the strategy evolved by newborn babies to form an emotional attachment to the  
nearest powerful adult in order to maximize the probability that this adult will enable — at the  
very least — the survival of the child, if not also prove to be a good parental figure. This  
syndrome is considered a prime example for the defense mechanism of identification.

Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia © 2001-2006

I sighed and continued.

...In their media interviews, it was clear that they supported their captors and actually feared law  
enforcement personnel who came to their rescue. The hostages had begun to feel the captors  
were actually protecting them from the police.

http://counsellingresource(.)com Copyright © 2002-2009

This process was both helpful and disheartening. I knew that I wasn't alone, and I had a much better understanding of how I felt the way I did for Edward and why everything I felt was wrong.

But these people... the ones in the different studies... they _continued_ on the same path. They kept insisting that their captors and abusers weren't _that_ bad. After all, one woman ended up married to her captor.

_Would that happen with Edward and I?_ I found myself asking before I could stop myself. I felt even more terrible for the hope present in that thought as Jacob leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on my temple.

"Isabella, honey, are you ready to go home, or do you want to stay here for the night?" he asked, nuzzling his face into my neck playfully.

It tickled, and I giggled as I tried to lightly pushed his face away, making a decision. He asked that question often and I had always said no, despite his promise that he'd sleep on the couch if I stayed.

But I was trying harder now. Doing my best to change myself. For the better.

"I'll stay here," I said as nonchalantly as I could.

"What?" he asked in shock, staring at me in surprise and excitement.

"I'll stay," I repeated. "It's late, and I don't want you driving so far," I added. I'm sure I failed at keeping a casual tone of voice.

Dr. Cullen's research idea _was_ helping, but not in the way he had intended. Yes, I understood my condition better and knew that my feelings for Edward were built on a sense of dependency, needing Edward to help me survive, my whole life in his hands for entirely too long, added on with him being such a striking authority figure and my one and only contact to the outside world. As the doctor had said, it was was "completely understandable" that I still had thoughts and emotions left over.

After several months.

Now I personally thought that Dr. Cullen just didn't want to tell me the abnormality of my long grieving period as I got over the fact that Edward wasn't the one for me, simply so that it wouldn't hinder or put pressure on our therapy sessions. But by following his suggestion, my own personal research into my "illness" had brought to light the fact that there were generally two ways to go after a rescue: One was that the victims never got over their feelings of devotion and loyalty to their captor. Others received care and were better after a couple months, their... _problems..._ disintegrating the longer they were separated from their "tormentor".

While my _problems_ didn't seem to be getting worse in any degree, they certainly didn't seem to be fading or in want of going away any time soon. I was disenchanted by the thought.

Especially when Jacob was so excited that I finally decided to stay at his apartment for the night. It was a step, one I wasn't sure I was ready to take. Smaller steps would be easiest to be the first ones.

I knew that I when I was returned 'home' I was very different than when I left. Jacob's face would remind me of that often. Every time I would wear one of my dresses or close the curtains to keep the sunlight out of my face. Or when I would make a sandwich, though I truthfully couldn't understand why it would possibly upset him to eat a healthy, more satisfying version of his all time favorite lunch food. Peanut butter and jelly could never compare to a delicious turkey, provolone, lettuce, and miracle whip delicacy. If there was one positive thing that I'd happily carry over with me in my new-old life from my time as Edward's 'prisoner', it would be how he taught me to cook properly.

But Jacob always stubbornly refused to eat any of my recipes, though he was kind enough not to say why, coming up with an excuse, just as he did when we got the Chines takeout that night. He always was _kind_ to me now regarding any subject, rather than being honest about the worried expression he hid behind his eyes whenever he looked at me. He truly was in complete agreement with Dr. Cullen that it was best for me to acclimate myself back into the life I held before, and I knew he worried that it was taking so long.

And I agreed with his hidden distraught attitude. It was taking a long time for the simplest of habits to come back to me. I tried not to think that it was all hopeless.

_Change_, I thought to myself as I turned over in restlessness in Jacob's bed that night. I could hear him snoring in the living room, not having the same trouble sleeping that I was.

_Change all you are. Become the Isabella you once were, and leave Bella behind._

_(You are My Bella now. Never forget that. You are My Bella. Never forget that.)_

I still had a lot of work ahead of me in my recovery, and I sunk under the covers. It was always worse at night.

_(You are My Bella now. Never forget that.)_

I was beginning to wonder if Dr. Cullen really knew what he was doing in regards to my recovery. It was becoming obvious to me that I couldn't hide and pretend none of it happened. His voice still came to me, reminding me of the lessons and words he had instilled into me so deeply.

I began to think that perhaps I should just face my fears.

And yes, I had actually begun to fear Edward as I hadn't since the very beginning. I knew he was a bad guy. A villain. A criminal. And I was glad that I was taken away from him, instead of going down in the same way. Really, I was.

After all, I was back with the man who had been there for me since infancy and who I had loved almost as long, they tell me. I had friends and family. Edward had taken me away from all of that happiness, and I didn't think I could forgive him for that. Even if I got him in return.

_(You are my Bella now. And I am your Edward. Forever, love. Never forget that we're in each other's hearts.)_

I just needed more time to get over him.

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**This chapter didn't have much action, but it set the stage for the rest of the story, considering Bella's confusion about her feelings and where her life should go. She _wants_ to go back to her old life, but she's doubting her abilities to do so. Thoughts on the subject?**

**~MuffN.**


	3. Stockholm Syndrome

**Yes, it's been forever. Not my fault, though, as I had to go to the hospital and couldn't post the chapter on the day I had planned to, and then I was waiting for Twilighted to validate my VeganElla oneshot so I could post this, and then my new job kept me busy every day I had planned to come to the library to post this, lol. It's been complete for a long while, and the fates just didn't want it out yet, but here it is ^.^**

**Ahem.**

**The majority of you had one question regarding last chapter: Where's Edward?! I feel like I'm on _Dallas_ and everyone wants to know who shot him, lol. The answer to that question is easy—Edward is here, waiting for you in this chapter. Don't let the POV throw you off, alright? This story is about more than just Edward and Bella, and this is the only unbiased point of view we'll see, therefore it gives a different perspective.**

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**Chapter 3: Stockholm Syndrome**

_Look to the stars  
Let hope burn in your eyes  
And we'll love  
And we'll hope  
And we'll die  
All to no avail  
All to no avail  
This is the last time I'll abandon you  
And this is the last time I'll forget you  
I wish I could_

**Jacob POV:**

Looking at her hurts in ways I never imagined possible. Talking to her hurts. And whenever I touch her, I can see that it hurts us both.

I'm not a stupid man; I know that deep inside of her just being away from that evil son of a bitch gives her both extreme relief and acute pain. I'm not an idiot, and I'm aware of how conflicted she is. That relief makes me so glad that I found her. But that _pain_ hurts me, too. It hurts to know that some part of her probably considers me the bad guy for taking her away from her kidnapper.

It's that mix, the relief/pain, that makes her an unreliable witness for the trial for both the prosecution and defense.

And when they called her name and the bailiff escorted her to the stand, I caught her eye. She was nervous, and still unused to being the center of attention; something that affected her from _both_ lives she had led.

She placed her hand on the bible and swore to tell the truth, the look of pure terror on her face making me wince; both the look and the public defender's line of questioning were forcing me to relive the past just as she was.

"Isabella, do you remember the day of your rescue at all?"

"I do," she replied timidly, staring at her hands.

I did as well. That horrified look on her face when we found her still haunted me every night in my dreams.

I could hardly recognize her, though I supposed that wasn't much of a surprise. It had been six years since I'd last seen her on her seventeenth birthday, and she had long since grown from a gangly teenager into a blossoming woman. Her features were more defined, hips wider, breasts more fully developed, and everything else that came with growing up.

But those natural changes weren't the only differences.

First of all, she was wearing a dress. It was long and went down past her knees, yes, but the Isabella I remembered didn't like wearing dresses at all, no matter how modest. She fell over far too often to wear them before. I had commented on this after the fact, and she replied in a stone cold voice, _"Falling only happens when no one is there to catch you."_ Her face was clear of emotions as she said it, and I could tell. It was a quote. From him, I instinctively knew.

I also had the opportunity to ask her why she had been growing her hair out so long, when I remembered her always saying in the past how it was too much effort to care for. Her response: _"Long hair makes one appear more feminine, and one shouldn't deny their gender out of sheer laziness."_ That detached voice and facial expression told me what I needed to know. It was another quote.

Of course, when questioned, she flat out refused to wear any heels to go along with her new clothes and hair, though that wasn't surprising at all considering how the same refusal surfaced when she was a teenager and was asked the same thing. But this time another quote came with her explanation, making me work very hard to conceal my anger from her.

"_High heels are death traps for the clumsy; only a stupid person would force them onto someone with such a distorted equilibrium."_

That psychopath had called her _distorted_, and she believed it. She quoted it. It was embedded into her brain.

That was the day I put my foot down on the therapy issue. It had been "recommended" when we first returned with her and she kept asking about _him_, but it was clear to me that it was a necessity, as she couldn't seem to keep his thoughts out of her head. He had brainwashed my beautiful Isabella into believing all his thoughts, branding them into the forefront of her mind. She would never be able to get past her experiences with him if all those thoughts were inside of her, fucking with the truth.

Isabella needed help, I knew, and I would not abandon her when it was within my power to help before it became too late. It was the only way I could absolve myself from the crime of letting her go in the first place...

I would never forget the way I felt when she wasn't in my life. I had never given up searching, of course, and as I was already eighteen when she went missing, I put all my efforts into training with the local police force. With my determination and Charlie's high recommendations, I moved up more quickly in the ranks than I thought possible, eventually settling into Seattle to serve at as leader of their elite SWAT team.

I specialized in kidnapping and hostage situations, naturally.

But all the while, through all the years, I kept watching and sent my feelers out to anyone and everyone who would listen and be of assistance.

Full name: Isabella Marie Swan. Age: seventeen years old at the time of disappearance. You want a picture? Well, I have one right here. Her relationship to me? Fiancee. No, not _was_ my fiancee. _Is._

I always used the present tense, a promise close to my heart. _I will find you again, my Isabella._

"What happened in San Diego, Isabella? Why did you leave?" the lawyer asked, bringing me back to the present just long enough to get lost again.

"We felt like we were being followed," she answered softly.

She wasn't wrong.

Roughly a year after her disappearance, we caught a trail. In San Diego, as the lawyer implied in her line of questioning.

This was when Charlie was still working the case, before he had given up. A cousin of his deputy, Mark Addison, thought he recognized her when he was walking to work. She even looked around briefly when he called her name, but the busy streets swept her away before he could catch up. By the time we flew south and finagled our way into discovering where she had been staying at, it was too late. They were gone, the apartment looking like it had been cleaned out in a rush.

But we had a last name. Masen.

The apartment in question wasn't in the best part of town, but it wasn't a slum, either. The landlord of the building certainly seemed to be dodgy, though, and had never even bothered to learn Masen's first name, and couldn't provide a very good physical description, either. He was Caucasian. Tall, a little over six feet, maybe. He had a weird reddish brown hair color. The landlord couldn't remember any specific eye color, and couldn't think of any distinguishing features, as he'd only met the man once.

And we most definitely didn't have enough information to work with. Several false trails, coupled with numerous dead ends, occurred throughout the years, but it was five months ago that we finally had a real lead. In our nearby town of Forks, of all places, not too far from our hometown of Tacoma. Too close to under our noses to ever make us think of such a thing.

Jessica Stanley, a nosy woman who worked at a desk at Charlie's Tacoma precinct, was a Forks resident and had called my phone out of the blue and began talking my ear off that one fateful day. It seemed that the old white house from just outside the town's borders was occupied once again. Throughout her entire life in the city, she had only known people to enter the house when the parents of the family were still alive. Their son was put into the foster care system at a young age after their death, and received the keys to the house when he turned eighteen, but had never been seen visiting. Never once, yet now he was.

I was about to yell at her for wasting my time and demand to know how she got my cell phone number, when she spoke the magic words:

"His name is Edward Masen, and when I saw him around town, I noticed his gorgeous bronze hair and to-die-for green eyes. If I wasn't so scared of who he could be, I might have hit on him."

Her giggle was background noise in my mind as I processed what she had said.

Edward _Masen_. He had bronze, also known as _red-ish brown_ hair. My mouth paused, half open.

Jessica would have known about our only clue, as old as it was, and it was very suspicious that someone who fit our extremely general description with the same last name was living so close to where my Isabella was from. It seemed like too much of a coincidence.

I, of course, wanted to go bust down his door right away, but I had the misfortune of receiving Jessica's call while I was at work with another officer in the room, who reported the possible situation to a superior who wanted to do it "the right way". So we called a judge, who refused to give us a warrant to search the property on such slight circumstances. We had to investigate more, gather more evidence to support the claim before anything official could be done.

And the Deputy Mark Addison was assigned to the task, much to my chagrin, as I was biased and too involved in the situation. I was literally locked in a cell to keep me away from the scene.

"What happened on the fourteenth of March, Isabella?" the lawyer asked, and I chuckled lightly to myself, gathering looks from those sitting around me.

"Um," she began, glancing at me. I smiled encouragingly at her, and she smiled back. "I was downstairs, and I heard a hard knock on the front door. I remember thinking that whoever it was had probably hurt his hand to knock that hard so I could hear it down in the basement."

"You were in the basement at the time of Deputy Addison's visit to the Masen house?"

The courtroom silence was broken by soft murmurs.

"Yes, I always stayed downstairs, though sometimes I was allowed to go up after Edward came home."

"Allowed? Meaning that you had to receive permission to leave the basement?"

"Um, no, it wasn't quite like that," she said softly, looking nervous as she stared down at her skirt. We were losing her, that unreliability I knew about coming into play. "I would never have been punished if I went upstairs or anything... It was just a known fact that I shouldn't go up there because it wasn't safe."

The lawyer sighed, knowing the same thing I did. She needed to abandon that line of questioning before it went the wrong direction.

"What happened after he knocked on the door? Anything of consequence?"

"Well, he knocked again a few times. Persistent, if I may be so bold as to ascertain."

"You may," the lawyer said, and I smiled a little. Impartial facts would serve us better, and we could perhaps lead her into admitting what we wanted her to. "Did anything else happen?"

"Well, I heard his footsteps circling the house. The ground floor, you see, is a few steps above the earth, and the basement's roof is just barely above ground. I could hear him when he walked by the wall I was standing next to."

"And what was the Deputy doing?"

"I don't know. You'd have to ask him." I chuckled again, and Bella met my eyes across the room. She was very nervous, I saw, and the most I could do was smile at her again. She shook her head to gather herself and took a deep breath. "If I had to guess, though, I'd say he was trying to see inside, see if there was anything out of place."

"Would there have been? What would he have seen?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. It's a very beautiful, very normal house. The curtains would have been wide open in the first floor, showing a normal house."

"Did you overhear the conversation between Deputy Addison and Mr. Masen when Mr. Masen returned from work?"

"I did."

"What happened?" the lawyer asked, and I sighed. Would Isabella be just as impartial about something that directly involved Masen? I had to hope so, though when his name was mentioned, she stiffened.

"Well, Edward came home at the same time he always did, and the deputy intercepted him before he could come inside. That was what caught my attention."

"What was?"

"Well, Edward loves routine, so I was surprised when he didn't come inside right away after his car pulled up. So I put down my knitting, and eavesdropped."

_Knitting?_ I scoffed. And the very fact that she turned so red, as if feeling guilty over listening in on the conversation... I once again felt terrible for ever letting her go.

"I could tell from Edward's voice that he was worried, and later he told me it was because Deputy Addison was in uniform, and he was justifiably nervous around officers of the law."

_When did she start speaking so formally?_

"He asked what the officer wanted, and the officer asked to come inside. Edward said no, and so the officer asked if Edward had time to talk. Edward said no again, and the officer asked what was so important. It was a very fast paced conversation," she added, causing me to smile at her. She still sat stiffly in her chair, but she was staring straight at me. The corner of her lip lifted back at me, her eyes crinkling just a little at the small gesture. She relaxed. Slightly.

"Did Masen answer Deputy Addison's question?" the lawyer asked when it seemed she didn't have anything else to say.

"No, he just came inside and locked the door."

According to Mark, he glared first, but Isabella wouldn't have known about that, being locked down in the basement. And there were too many locks on the front door for such a small town. He thought it was suspicious, and included it in his report.

Also included were his observations from his walk around the house that Isabella had mentioned before. Every single curtain in the house was tied wide open, as if proclaiming to the world that there was nothing to hide in the house.

_Lies._

Jessica Stanley herself had told me over the phone that a lot of those curtains closed once the sun had set for the day, but that was once again merely suspicious behavior, not the hard evidence that they needed.

But Mark had noticed something Jessica didn't. There was a basement. And there were small windows near where the roof of the cellar would be, and it had the only curtains in the entire house that were closed tightly. Perhaps there was something to hide down _there._

Mark had also taken a picture of Masen form a hidden camera at one point during their conversation, and _that_ was the proof that opened the case and brought out a warrant to search the premises. The photo was faxed to San Diego, and the shady landlord confirmed that it was the same person they had been looking for so many years before.

It took a lot of convincing for my superiors to allow me to go on the raid, but it finally happened when I told them that Isabella might be frightened of the newcomers barging in and grabbing her (to take her to safety, but still...) if she didn't see a familiar face.

And after all that work and worrying... I wish I hadn't gone.

Because my poor Isabella was so different, and so scared, and so defensive of her captor. And because she didn't recognize me, and she obviously didn't want to be rescued at that time. She broke my nose, trying to escape from _me_ of all people, when _I_ was the one trying to save her.

Even though I knew she was upset and confused, I couldn't help but think of her as ungrateful, because I wanted our relationship to go back to the perfect ease it once was.

So, obviously I did the selfish thing.

She spent a couple months reconnecting with her parents, and the I asked her to move in with me. We had picked up our relationship almost where it had left off after the first few hard weeks, and she had slept over at my apartment in the city numerous times before; first with me sleeping on the couch, and then us both cuddling in my bed.

I chose not to be hurt when she hesitated in answering me. And then she said yes. And then she moved in. It took a very small amount of time for that process, considering how very little she had in possessions. She didn't have access to any of the belongings she had kept at Masen's hideout, so she took the few sweaters and the only skirt she had owned from her old closet in the home she grew up in, along with the couple new ones that had been purchased since her return home. The old skirt was a little small, but it was long; the old jeans would have still fit her, I knew, but of course she didn't even think to take them with her, or wear them at all, really. The "Bella" before us would never wear jeans.

I knew that this wasn't my Isabella anymore, but I was determined to get her back. I figured that my subconscious thought that doing so would make me forget the image of hatred that I saw in her eyes when I saved her.

I just hoped that whatever that sick bastard had done to brainwash her so thoroughly didn't hurt, and that it would be easily fixed. My Isabella was sweet and fragile, but never entirely dependent on anyone. She was calm and passive, but had a mind of her own. She was... _Isabella_. She was herself, not the person who had been personally molded to someone else's specifications that I saw before me. She was most certainly _not_ "Bella".

This "Bella"... she was unrecognizable.

And now it was Bella's turn to take the stand, rather than Isabella. The defense was going to question her, and the questions brought up all my fears from when she was gone.

Now, I had seen terrors take place in my time. I had seen witnesses brutally interrogated. I had been present in shootouts, and helped console the families of those lost in action. And I couldn't help but image my Isabella in the place of these other victims. Screaming, shouting, praying for mercy as she begged Masen to stop. Promising that she'd follow his rules, claiming that she'd be good.

What would have happened to her when she _wasn't_ good? Would he hit her?

"No, no physical violence ever took place," she responded to the defense's question. The lawyer looked happy.

Would he starve her?

"No, he never neglected me. I was well taken care of."

Did he ever... rape... her?

"Of course not!" She looked offended at the very suggestion, and I was filled with relief. That was one question I could never bring myself to ask of her.

"So all sex was consensual," the attorney stated, and I help my breath again in wait. Did she ever have sex with him and _want_ it?

"Yes," she said, breaking my heart a little.

"Even at the beginning, when you first disappeared?" I wanted the strangle the woman for saying it like she had a choice in being taken away. She shook her head. "Did you ever have sex with Mr. Masen when you were a minor?"

I crossed my fingers, hoping that _something_ she admitted would be able to be used against him. I was beginning to wonder if it were possible for her to ever have a bad word to say about that evil man.

"No, that would have been wrong." She once again seemed surprised by the line of questioning.

_Why did her damn kidnapper have to have a moral compass?_ I thought, exasperated, before becoming ashamed of myself. I obviously didn't want anything bad to happen to her, but still—I wished that we had something against him other than fraud.

I cursed quietly, but in the silent courtroom, the word echoed, and Isabella gasped. I wanted to curse again; this new "Bella" didn't like it when the people around her swore.

_"Using such vulgar words in the presence of a lady is a sin punishable by death. Better vernacular would be spoken by a gentleman."_

I usually hated it when she quoted things, but it seemed to be my lucky day.

Bella repeated those exact words on impulse. In the same flat voice and dead eyes. The courtroom silenced, seeing the exact same thing I did: it was compounded into her mind. She had no feelings about this phrase, but she believed it to be true. I once again wondered what had been done to my Isabella to accomplish the task of etching these phrases into her brain.

I winced at the thought of my Bella being hurt, whether physically or emotionally. She obviously wasn't mentally stable, and I had seen the hinting of a scar I didn't know the story to on her chest. I hoped that the cause of it hadn't hurt too terribly, and I was afraid to ask Isabella about it, or if there were any other markings on her body. I could delude myself thinking that my thoughts were much worse than the reality, and maybe even managing to make myself believe the same words she told the court.

As the jury filed back in the give the verdict, I wanted to kill that asshole for making me have such grisly images in my head. I met his eyes from across the room, and he smirked, thinking he had somehow won.

I waited for the jury to speak their verdict to see if he was right.

I looked over at Isabella, and the jury's words were met at deaf ears. She was staring at him, and by the look on her face, he really _had_ won that battle.

But I wouldn't give up. I'd never abandon her again. Bella and I would be together, just as I was going to vow to her before she was taken away from me. _Till death do us part_... truly this time. He'd never take her again while I was still alive.

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**I love Jacob... He really has Bella's best interests at heart, and he's so determined to keep her safe. Who knows if that'll work in the end (I'll never tell)  
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**Next chapter is something I know y'all will have been waiting for. EPOV. Cheer away, and have fun looking forward to it. I hope I'll be able to visit the library again soon so it won't be so long until it's posted. The chapter itself is already complete, and just needs a final once over :D**


	4. Endlessly

**It's been a while, I know. I haven't been able to visit the library to post the newest chapter in a very long time, and I'm sorry for it. I apologize, my lovely readers! Does it help if I say that this is the longest chapter yet and its all EPOV?**

**I suggest y'all look back at some of Edward's quotes as well as Bella and Jacob's discussions and feelings about him after reading this chapter. I think you might understand him and what they're going through a bit better... :)**

**This chapter is mostly memories of Edward's, from how he met Bella to how he decided they were in love, and all that came in between. This is pretty much the only look into the past we'll see, because excepting the beginning before Bella succumbed to his brainwashing, she thought about him just as obsessively as he thought about her, and therefore her thoughts would be very much similar in regards to feelings and emotions. I hope this satisfies a lot of your questions, y'all.**

**Disclaimer: I do not oqwn Twilight or its characters. I just enjoy sniffing out the crazy in them all.  
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**Stockholm Syndrome**

**Chapter 4: Endlessly**

_Hopelessly, I'll love you endlessly_

_Hopelessly, I'll give you everything_

_But I won't give you up_

_I won't let you down_

_And I won't leave you falling_

_If the moment ever comes

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**EPOV:**

The first time I saw the splendor that would become My Bella was in Seattle. She was with a boy that I had assumed to be her boyfriend by the way they were holding hands, and she looked to be about fifteen at the time.

She was such a sweet looking little girl.

She kept tripping over her feet, and the boy would laugh and help her off the sidewalk, repeating his actions each time she fell over... It was then that I felt my first bout of uncompromising anger on her behalf, and it took everything I had in me not to jump out of my car where it sat at a red light and yell at the boy to just catch her _before_ she fell, rather than _watching_ it happen and offer assistance to her after the fact. I, of course, would never leave her falling as he did.

She just looked so fragile with her delicate features and skin so pale it was almost translucent... I wanted to do everything I could to help the poor girl when the one she seemed to care for wouldn't do it for her.

But I realized that I had somewhere else to be: I was to attend the orientation for WU. I had just transferred to complete my graduate's study in architectural design, starting a year earlier than any of my peers at only twenty-one. And I was already running late.

So, upset with myself almost as much as I was with the stupid boy, I left her.

Much to my surprise, I saw the poor girl again almost a year after that first incident. I might not have recognized her right away if she didn't have the same way of falling over nothing... and the same inability to see what was wrong with the people she chose to associate with.

I was once again stopped at a red light when I saw her walking with two other girls. One had short black hair, and the other long blonde. Bella's dark hair lit up with a slight auburn hue in the rare Washington sunlight, making the three girls standing together look like the Charlie's Angels. I couldn't stop staring at her.

And then My Bella stumbled and spilled her coffee on the blonde girl, who got upset. I couldn't hear her words from my distance, but Bella appeared to be apologizing profusely to the blonde girl who didn't seem to care about her obvious remorse.

A car horn honked, alerting me to the green light in front of me, but I knew that I couldn't leave Bella by herself in such a situation. I put the car in park and hopped out, leaving the engine running. More horns blared, but when the drivers saw that I wasn't going to move my car, they just drove around.

I couldn't have cared less, as I had other matters on my mind.

I approached the girls on the street just as they settled their dispute. Bella was still apologizing, being the wonderfully caring soul that she always was. The blonde was rolling her eyes and said it was alright, and that she'd just need to buy a new sweater while they were out, due to the weather.

I was only a couple yards away from them when I heard Bella offer to pay for it, and the blonde accepted.

_How rude,_ I remember thinking. It wasn't Bella's fault that she happened to be adorably clumsy. I would have never made her pay for it if she had ruined my clothes. I knew better than to treat her like that. _She deserves better friends. She should forget all about them._

Almost as if hearing my thoughts, she looked up and met my eyes, her cheeks turning a deep crimson. I smiled as kindly as I could at her and simply took off my own jacket, tossing it at the blonde as I walked past and rounded a corner.

I had helped her. She wouldn't need to spend her hard earned money to satisfy the selfishness of one of her so-called friends; I could tell by the sad state of her shoes that her family didn't have the money for her to spend it so carelessly. Now the blonde wouldn't even have to care about going cold.

I peeked around the corner, only to see their backs walking away from me. And I couldn't get it out of my mind that I had _helped_ her.

In that state of mind, I hurried back to my car, relieved to see it in the same place and unharmed, cars still just driving around it. I got in and finished my drive to the campus, basking in how sweet she had looked with her dark cheeks, expressing that glorious curiosity and needless embarrassment in her chocolate eyes...

It was the next time that I saw her that things escalated, and I had learned after the fact that it was the night of her seventeenth birthday.

I was out with a couple friends from school as well as my girlfriend when I saw them. In the same club. An over twenty-one club.

Bella shouldn't have been there. It wasn't right, and she obviously was much too young for such a thing. But to this day, I'm very thankful that she _was_ there, because it brought us together. I would call it an intervention of fate, letting destiny take over since I had missed my opportunity to be with her the previous times I had seen her.

She was tripping all over the place when I spotted her, and I was unsure as to whether it was from the alcohol she had consumed, or the high heels she was wearing. _Why was she wearing heels? She fell down enough as it is... _

She stumbled over to a large man, and I was shocked to realize that it was the same scrawny boy I had seen her with two years before. I hoped that now he was strong enough to catch her if she fell again.

Then I saw the two girls from such a long time ago as well... The blonde looked like she had eaten something sour with the way she was glaring at Bella as she spoke and threw back countless shots—she hadn't seemed to have improved much in the personality department since I last saw her. The little black haired girl wasn't paying attention to her friend's peril, and was instead sucking the face off of a man who looked much older than herself, not jumping in to help Bella just as she hadn't before. These were _not_ the type of people My Bella should have been associating with. _She should walk away from them all, and never look back._

Just as I found myself thinking that, her _boyfriend_ leaned down to kiss her, and she gave him a chaste equivalent of the way he tried to devour her face. I was proud of her when she pulled back from the massive adolescent. Then her boyfriend grabbed her arm suddenly, and I worried for the strength of his muscles and her light skin that would bruise easily. He handed her another drink which she tried to decline, but he insisted on it, and I sadly watched her down it in one go. Yes, her "friends" were most assuredly a terrible influence on her.

But then she spoke into his ear, and I held my breath as she started walking toward me. I did my best to smile at her... and she walked straight past me to the restrooms. I heard a burst of laughter, and remembered that I was at the bar with company, and my roommate Demetri was laughing at me.

"That's what you get for scamming on another girl when your girlfriend is here! Karma says you get rejected!"

I glared at him until he stopped his irritating chuckles. Then I remembered Tanya. I looked around and didn't see her anywhere, so I figured that was another part of Fate's design and headed in the same direction as the girl who would soon become My Bella.

She came out of the restrooms as I approached, her eyes widening when she saw me. Then she spoke in that angelic voice of hers, another one of her adorable blushes gracing her cheeks. "I'm sorry, but I don't have your jacket to give back to you."

I simply beamed. She remembered me. "That's quite alright," I responded. "I don't need it just now."

I only needed to find a way to get her away from the terrible people who would continue to bring her down to a level far below her. _They don't really know her. They don't deserve her._

She swayed on the spot a little, and I was once again curious about whether that had to do with her liquor intake or choice in footwear. I caught her arm to steady her, and asked if she was alright. She said she was, but she sounded breathless, so I offered to drive her home. _She shouldn't have been here in this atmosphere to begin with._

She hesitated, and I spoke before she had a chance to say no. "Come on, love," I said. "I'm going to get you away from all these people." I'm still unsure if I meant the general drunken crowd, or her friends specifically.

I pulled her out the front entrance, glancing back to see her "friends" smiling and laughing, not even caring that this poor girl wasn't with them anymore.

She seemed uneasy as I guided her to my car, so I tried to calm her nerves. I told her my honest intentions: I just wanted to make sure she got home safely. If she would have preferred, I would have called her a cab; I'd be willing to pay for it, and I simply would not tell her that I planned on following the cab to ensure she really did get home safely.

She threw up in response, and I could hardly blame her—the thought of dirty cab seats were revolting to me as well, and I felt ridiculous for suggesting it in the first place. So I steered her wobbly body to my Volvo, helping her to collapse in a heap in the front passenger seat. She was much more intoxicated than I had originally thought, and she was barely conscious once she settled in against the leather.

When I asked her where we were going, she told me to take a left on Third. I would have thought it adorable that she wanted to give me directions when I probably knew the city better than she did, if it weren't for the way she slurred her words. _She deserved better friends. She should forget all about them._

She still looked a little uncomfortable, though, so I put on a classical music radio station. She seemed to relax, to my great pleasure, and closed her eyes to absorb the music.

I asked her name, and she told me it was Isabella. I thought about it for a bit, and asked it I could call her _Bella_ instead, the Italian 101 class from earlier in the day still reverberating in my head. She nodded and asked my name in return. I told her I was Edward. _Edward and Bella sounded lovely together._

Making a left on Third as she had told me, I asked for the next step. She told me to take a right three blocks down. I did, and asked where next, receiving no answer.

She was asleep. Passed out. The effects of alcohol...

I tried to rouse her to no avail, so I opened her purse to fetch her ID and hopefully an address as well. Instead, I found a fake ID with a picture that didn't look a thing like her and an address in Tacoma that was likely fake as well. I sighed. She also didn't have a cell phone, so I couldn't look through it to call anyone and ask.

I couldn't just _leave_ her anywhere, so I figured I would take her home with me. The dorm was out of the question, considering my roommate, so we drove to my parents' house in Forks.

The house had been left to me when they died several years before, and I usually only visited it once a month to clean up a bit, since it nice to get away from school every so often. My visits usually tended to be at night, because I knew how small a town like Forks was. I'd never be able to visit in peace again if anyone knew I had returned to that house. But people were obviously stupid—how else did the place stay in such impeccable shape throughout the years?

I carried Bella into my room and tried waking her one last time, unsuccessfully. I sighed as I took off her shoes and tucked her in, going to sleep in my parents' old bedroom.

The next morning arrived, and she slept late, understandably. I had already showered, changed, and placed a couple Advils and a glass of water on her bedside table by the time she awoke, seeming surprised by her surroundings. I explained what had happened, and offered to take her back to her parents (as I surely wanted to have a talk with them about who they let their child associate with and their general ineptitude). She simply groaned and said that she wasn't up for a drive yet. I smiled kindly, knowing that a harsh hangover such as the one she must have been experiencing could bring about motion sickness easily. My poor little Bella...

Then she sat up, a panic stricken look on her face as she asked if she could use my phone. I was surprised to discover that she didn't really live in Seattle at all, but rather in Tacoma, and she and her friends were staying in a hotel for the weekend, probably worried sick about her when she didn't end up there that night. I handed her my phone and she dialed frantically, placing it to her ear.

"Hello? Jacob... Yeah, I'm so sorry I'm not-... really?... _Really?_ Oh, well, that's good then... No, it's okay, as long as my Dad wasn't up all night worried about me. You know how he gets... I promise I'm okay, and I'll be back later. I just... Yeah, I promise... You, too... Bye."

That conversation did it for me.

Her friends weren't worried when she didn't come home all night. Her _boyfriend_ didn't care at all.

Her own _father_ didn't care, either. What kind of parents would let their daughter go gallivanting off in a strange city on her own with only a couple other immature adolescents kids who didn't care for her at all as well?

I could have been anyone, a mean spirited person who would have taken advantage of Bella after she had passed out. After all, I had managed to take her out of the city, into my _bedroom_, and she never woke up. What would have happened to her if I hadn't seen her when I did at the club? I was _not_ happy with her mother and father's non-ability to provide and care for her.

And then I noticed that Bella didn't tell her friends where she was at. She didn't give any real indication of _wanting_ to return to any of them. She didn't even tell the boyfriend she had been with for so long that she loved him. She obviously didn't want to go back to any of them, just as I couldn't let her. It worked out splendidly.

I wondered how long it would take to get her taken out of that household. I didn't mind being her legal guardian. I cared. I would care for her, just as I had wanted to do the first time I laid my eyes upon her. But perhaps she would have to end up in a foster home if we went through the court system. _I'll find a way to work it out._

We talked casually as I worked out the details in my head.

She asked how old I was, and I told her that I was twenty-two. She reciprocated, and confided in me that she had just celebrated her seventeenth birthday, and that was why she and her friends were in the city. I nodded noncommittally; seventeen, and she was getting drunk and passing out in stranger's cars.

And dressing like... _that?_ I had no objections to her clothing, of course—she looked lovely nonetheless—but she was wearing clothes meant for a ten year old boy (the heels excluded). Most girls her age wouldn't dress like that to go out. I liked that she had her own thing going on, but individuality for the sake of simply being contrary was no different than being the same, except with a ridiculous stubborn streak thrown in.

I decided that I would buy her a dress for her birthday. Not something trashy, but classy, elegant. Refined, just as a young lady her age should have been. We would stop at a store on the way out of town.

In the mean time, I left her to wake up more gradually, giving time for the Advil to take effect, and went to the grocery store. I purchased a toothbrush, the most effective brand of toothpaste, healthy and wholesome cereal, fresh milk, eggs, whole grain bread, an ice chest, several bottles of water, and a couple other essentials to a healthy diet. I didn't want to have to subject her to takeout or diner food during our travels.

I returned and went to the closet beneath the staircase, pulling out luggage. I took one and packed the nonperishable items I had just purchased along with a few around-the-house items such as books or CDs that I thought Bella might enjoy. I brought a second suitcase upstairs, throwing in what little clothes I had left in the drawers, and consequently waking Bella up again.

"What in the hell are you doing?" she asked, and I cringed. Ladies like Bella should never curse in such a way. It didn't fit her caring demeanor or her sweet voice.

I told her that I'd decided to take a leave of absence from the University. A long vacation suddenly seemed vital. She nodded, and asked if she could help me in any way. I just smiled, knowing now that she was fine with our trip.

Going downstairs so I didn't disturb Bella with her packing, I called my school to withdraw from all my classes, knowing that if I didn't do it soon, I wouldn't get my deposit back. I sprinted back upstairs to see Bella sitting on the suitcase, trying to close it as some of my old shirts spilled out. I walked in and showed her how to properly fold the clothes so it would all fit in and save more room.

_Why didn't her parents care about her enough to teach her how to pack a simple suitcase?!_

Their failures continued to astound me, and their presence in her life until that point completely ineffectual. I was surprised that she had managed to survive as long as she had, nonetheless as an even more vulnerable baby.

As I carried the few bags out to the car, I told Bella to make a couple sandwiches for the long road ahead, unaware of the disaster such a task would reveal.

Apparently her Jacob had given her bad habits in regards to such a simple thing, and she wanted to just randomly slap ingredients together and call it a meal. She had no respect for the art of food, and I was thankful once again that I now had the opportunity to correct such a travesty. I showed her the proper way to make a sandwich.

She packed the sandwiches into the cooler, but I stopped her before she could carry it out to the car. I also placed a couple bottles of water, a couple V8s, and fruit (unsliced—I didn't want Bella to attempt that only to have her ungraceful self find a way to chop off one of her own fingers) inside.

And then we were on our way.

She asked me why we weren't going in the direction of Tacoma, and I just smiled indulgently at her. We couldn't go back for her stuff if we were going to get away. She had told me that her father was a policeman, so even if _he_ didn't care whether or not she was gone, he'd still have to report her missing, and later would be better than sooner.

I did my best to explain all of this to her, how they weren't worthy of her and how it might have even been better if they had just died when she was a child as my own parents had, because then she could have gotten away from them sooner. Parents were a useless hassle, and people grew up better, smarter, and more independently without them. I only lived with mine for four years of my life, and I turned out perfectly well.

So we kept driving, only taking a break at rest stops every couple hours.

We stopped in a hotel that night, and I pulled up Bella's hood to check us in (as I obviously wouldn't leave my new charge alone in the car in a place I didn't know), and the desk attendant looked at us suspiciously. I immediately thought that perhaps we were recognized, but then realized the sheer impossibility of that: someone would have had to report us in to the authorities for that—and it obviously wasn't going to happen—but I didn't want to take chances. I might have to change Bella's hair style or color, unfortunately.

Luckily enough, he just seemed to be worried about underage prostitution by the looks he gave Bella, so I implied she was my sister. I'd need to get a new ID made for her (a _good_ one, not something like she had before) with my last name on it as soon as possible for proof—perhaps even with an over eighteen age on it. I'd hate for her to have to lie about how old she was, but it would be easier for us this way. I'd do absolutely whatever it took to make her safe with me.

We were in a double for the night, of course. She slept so peacefully, a lovely smile on her face that gave her a more mature appearance. Her beauty was so ethereal that I hardly slept that night, watching her do so instead, even as she tossed and occasionally woke up enough to see me watching. She didn't seem to mind, instead just falling back asleep.

That was the first time I looked at Bella and thought about her as more than someone to be cared for; I thought of her as beautiful when she slept and when she smiled.

We moved around frequently. Portland. Salt Lake City. Phoenix. San Francisco. We eventually staked out a more permanent apartment in San Diego, California after we had been enough places where our story seemed plausible, and Bella understood our situation fully. She hardly responded to her old name anymore, and she slept more soundly through the night, giving me leave to do the same. She no longer seemed nervous about our hiding out anymore, and she no longer talked about those other people who did not deserve to know her.

She didn't seem to mind using the fake ID and lying about our relationship to people, though, making me even more sure of my decision to take care of her. Those people who she had been with had made it okay to deceive. I didn't like that, and I made that clear to her. She nodded, a smile on her face.

We lived in San Diego for over half a year, and I tutored Bella, bringing her above the "senior" level that they say is advanced in the public school system. I taught her everything that I knew, and she was a very smart, very willing pupil, absorbing the knowledge like a sponge.

Sometime during our stay there, Bella saw a picture of herself as a missing person. To this day, I'm not sure how or where, but we left again. If people would recognize her in San Diego, then we had to depart.

I'd heard the amber alert during the second day of our trip away from Forks. Bella had been using the restroom and I was sitting in the car listening to the radio when it came on. They made her sound wanted and loved and important, when really she was only that way to me. But the broadcasters were smart, and they knew what they were doing.

Her father wasn't only a policeman, but he was the police _chief_ in Tacoma, and he was using all his resources to look for her. _Why hadn't she mentioned that?_

Her _fiancee_ Jacob Black, older by one year, was a tribal member of a local Native American tribe, and would succeed his father's position as a tribal elder in the next few years. _Were they really in such a committed relationship at such a young age?_ I found that hard to believe. Bella didn't wear a ring on her finger, and it was silly of the boy to think of her as his when he didn't even give her something to prove it to them both.

She was last seen with Jacob Black, along with a Rosalie Hale, the heir the the Hale clothing dynasty, an Alice Brandon, and a Jasper Whitlock, who was the cousin to the blonde heiress and was acting as the children's chaperone for the weekend. _As if a true chaperone would spend the night making out with one of his charges..._

The news report went on to say that no one knew where Isabella—_her name is Bella, _I mentally hissed—disappeared to. She had left the club they were celebrating her birthday at with no notice, and no cab drivers on duty in the area reported giving her a ride. They had no leads.

And the worst part of the broadcast? The plea for any information regarding the "well loved and adored missing girl."

If they cared for her at all, then not only wouldn't he have had cause for taking her away from them to begin with, but he wouldn't have had the opportunity. If she had been with anyone else... I shudder to think of all that could have happened to her. She could have been dead, or worse. My Bella could have been hurt and crying, alone somewhere with someone who would hurt her, and no one would have been able to do anything about it.

The report made me furious, and I changed the radio station whenever it came on, stopping not only myself from hearing it again, but Bella as well; I wouldn't have wanted her to hear such false promises and words of love. It would only break her heart in the end.

And those false words told to the masses could have been our downfall if we stayed in San Diego much longer. Bella didn't object much to our leaving, and obviously that was because she could now see just exactly how much better I was for her than anyone else in the world, and I wasn't afraid of her wanting to be elsewhere. She knew I'd give her everything she could want or need, and that I'd never let her down.

Well, maybe I was still a little afraid of her wanting to go elsewhere, so I made sure to tell her often just how much better off she was with me, and she believed me, as I knew she would. She didn't mention going off to return to her "family" as she usually did when we switched homes, and for that I was grateful. We were making progress.

So we packed up again, and I grilled her on the facts of our lives, making sure she remembered who we were, where we'd been our whole lives, and made sure she wouldn't respond to her old name at all, anymore.

And during our time together, I eventually fell in love with her. Simply, hopelessly.

Endlessly. I'd love her endlessly.

I gave her my mother's old ring for her nineteenth birthday when I told her, and she smiled at me when I told her to put it on. It shined on her finger. I loved seeing it there.

_That_ was dedication. Not just words. I hoped she still lived by our commitment now and wore the ring.

And if she didn't still wear that ring, then I obviously hadn't trained her well enough to understand the depth of our emotions. There shouldn't have ever been a way she could think of herself as belonging to anyone else but me.

Endlessly.

* * *

*****Remember everyone: all of this is one sided; we don't know why Rosalie was glaring at Bella, or if Jacob really grabbed her arm as hard as Edward suggested, or what was said on the other side of the phone call. He's just doing his best to come up with reasons why he felt the need to take Bella with his own skewed vision of things, and thinking that his actions were moral and justified. We don't know if anything he says is a fact, only that it's how he portrayed things in his mind. We also don't know why Bella went along with him, what his exact words were, or any other _specific _details regarding their departure together. Keep that in mind.*****

**But I love the judgmental state of Edward's mind, and how many assumptions he leaps to. Like her shoes. Kids think it's cool to wear trashy clothes, and Edward thinks that she doesn't have the money to survive... Like in the Twilight series, Edward still overreacts regarding anything with Bella. In this case, he waaaay overreacts by kidnapping her because he thinks she's better off living on the run with him than with her family and friends. Lol?**

**You know, I went back and forth with this chapter several times, even after I had it "perfected" for posting... That's what happens when I can't post a chapter right away I guess, lol. I took out a lot more of the exposition to put in later, and then I had to make the tough choice of just how creepy exactly I wanted Edward to be... At first I had it so that he scared the crap out of even me (and I created him! XD), but I figured I'd take it slow, instead just making him obviously unstable in the head, and showcasing his obsession with Bella and how unhealthy it is. I didn't want to make him redeemable, but I didn't want to make him totally evil in this chapter yet either. His psycho nature is still building... (dun _dun DUN!_)**

**Feel free to leave your thoughts in a review.**

**Much Love,**

**MuffN.**


	5. Blackout

**Just came back from a job interview. I rocked it. Celebrate my new job with me by enjoying this chapter and reviewing afterward, yeah? XD**

**So this chapter would have been out a while ago... but in my final review of it before posting, I came to the shocking conclusion that the plot for this chapter worked much better as chapter seven, and chapter seven worked for this six, and six worked better for here... This is the fifth complete re-write, not even including trying to rework those plot lines and chapters, lol. The things I do to made this story good for y'all... :P**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or its characters. I just enjoy finding unique and disturbing parallels inside it.

* * *

**

**Stockholm Syndrome.**

**Chapter 5: Blackout**

_Don't kid yourself__  
And don't fool yourself  
This life could be the last_

**BPOV:**

Being with Jacob was effortless, I was beginning to discover.

He was sweet. He was kind. He was caring. And he _loved_ me, unconditionally. I knew that he loved me for who I was before I disappeared, and his affection for me now was obvious as well.

I was different than I once was, maybe irrevocably so, and yet he still loved me, I was certain. Even if it was just due to remnants from the past, he still cared for me now.

Edward had told me and explained to me that he loved me, and that I loved him, an innumerable amount of times so that I couldn't help but believe his words. I _still_ believed them to some extent, even though I knew the truth about him now; it's one of the things I'd been working on with Dr. Cullen for the last several sessions.

But Jacob... I don't know if he'd once said those three words to me. Yet I knew them to be true without a doubt. He loved me. It was interesting, knowing something for a fact without someone having to tell it to me multiple times for me to believe it was true.

It was... refreshing. It was new and amazing and wonderful to know without a doubt that a man as kind as Jacob thought highly enough of me to give me his love so selflessly.

We had a lovely, if casual, life together. I had been living with him in his Seattle apartment for a couple months, and we both did our own things during the day, had a nice dinner together that I'd occasionally have the opportunity to cook in the evening, and we'd cuddle together in bed to go to sleep at night.

I lived in an above average home, had a pleasant job as a receptionist for a large law firm, attended classes two nights a week and on Saturdays, survived therapy once a week, and I had the kindest, sweetest, and most understanding boyfriend one could possibly imagine.

_And yet..._

I sighed to myself as I headed toward the elevator after work. I wouldn't let myself finish that thought, even if only in my head.

In the short time since I was removed from that house in Forks, I had accomplished a lot, and I was actually proud of that.

_But still..._

I sighed again.

This was different from both of the lives I had led, I knew. This wasn't at all the life I could have—maybe even _should_ have—been living.

With Edward, I could spend my time relaxing during the day, and being showered with affection at night, never having a care in the world.

Before Edward, my goals were to work hard, get into an ivy league college, and do something memorable with my life... such as become a doctor, or maybe even a scientist. I wanted to do good things, _big_ good things, enough that I would have to be acknowledged for my deeds—not for the attention of course, but for the simple fact that I'd helped enough, _done_ enough, that it would warrant such a thing. I had huge aspirations and wanted to save the world.

My new life was different from both I'd experienced before, I observed as I stepped into the empty elevator. Fifteen floors to the bottom.

Jacob loved me so unconditionally that he didn't do much to show his affection. He knew it bothered me somewhat, so he kept his demonstrations of his feelings to simply giving me light kisses, and holding me as we slept. I _knew_ how he felt, but he never _showed_ me because he was afraid of scaring me off. A fear which might or might not have been warranted.

And while my current occupation paid well enough, and I was continuing my schooling to perhaps get a degree of some sort and help to better myself intellectually... I was a receptionist. Not a NASA engineer or scientist finding a cure for cancer. I took messages and answered phones. I didn't have the experience or skills to do anything else.

_This_ is what I had accomplished with my life, if we were measuring from the time I had been born, rather than how long I'd been "free"... Almost twenty four years, or twenty four weeks?

I didn't know how to count my days or measure my worth anymore.

I felt like I needed... _someone_ to be there, and hold me and squeeze me and kiss me hard enough to make me stop worrying about all that was going through my head. And I could only remember one person well enough who had done such for me in the past.

Was it wrong to still miss Edward so much and want his comfort, or was it only natural? He was the only human I had been in contact with for so much of my recent life, after all. But he also was a crazy man.

I was still suffering terribly from my Stockholm Syndrome, and I needed to find a way to resolve the distress going on in my heart, and in my mind.

The elevator doors opened in front of me and I walked out, smiling at Jacob's waiting form just outside the glass doors of the building. He wrapped me securely into his arms and planted a warm kiss on the corner of my lips, smiling nervously down at me as he waited for my reaction; he usually only kissed my forehead or cheek, after all, and I felt bad about never encouraging him to push our boundaries more. We had a good life together, after all.

And hadn't I just wished that I had someone to kiss me? So I smiled back as best as I could and took his hand, leading him to the cafe across the street as was routine for us.

"How was work today, Isabella?" he asked as he casually rubbed his thumb across my knuckles. It felt nice.

"It was alright. Banner just started a new case, so I had to field a lot of frantic phone calls, but it wasn't anything too challenging."

"Well, that's good," he smiled down at me, and didn't say anything else until I already had my tea, and he his coffee, and we were sitting down together at our table in the back corner.

I held the cup up to my face, inhaling the relaxing scent of the drink before taking a sip. _Pure ambrosia._

He smiled softly at me as he watched me enjoy my beverage, and I felt it again. His love. He adored me, and took care of me. I studied his face as surely as he studied mine, but I had to look away as my gaze closed in on his nose.

I couldn't help but hate myself for sometimes loving the crooked part that existed due to my terror those many months ago.

But Jake knew me too well. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him absentmindedly brushing his fingertips over the small bump, knowing that it was the cause of my unease.

"It's alright, Isabella," he whispered to me, letting my gaze catch his again. "Don't worry. I promise all of those feelings will pass in time."

And he just looked so _sad_, knowing that I was thinking of someone other than him, when he only ever thought of me. He was too understanding for his own good, especially when it caused him such hurt.

"Let's get out of here," I told him, grabbing his hand again and leading him out to his car. He forced his lips to curve up at me in response, almost giving me his familiar smile.

The car ride back to the apartment was silent, and I was glad that I had moved in with him, because I didn't want to have to face the awkwardness of an even longer car ride to my parents' house in the disturbing quiet.

I knew I was being selfish and ridiculous. It wasn't as if I thought I could ever go back to the life I held with Edward. I knew that he was controlling and mentally unstable, and that his fascination with me more than bordered on obsession. I knew this.

But was it really so wrong for me to remember our good times together and be sad that no more would ever come? Would it be wrong to talk to Jacob about this as well? He had been so calm about everything so far, but would it be fair to inflict even more unnecessary hurt upon him?

_(Never leave yourself exposed, Bella. Don't ever put yourself out there, Bella.)_

I shook my head. Those thoughts of Edward's were out of context. I could talk to Jacob about anything, if I so chose.

Jake would certainly understand. He wouldn't complain if I chose to confide my feelings in him; he might even be _glad_ that I did because it showed the trust I had in him.

As if reading my mind, his hand slipped around waist under my jacket, pulling me lightly to his side as we entered the lobby to our building.

"What's on your mind that's making you make such an adorable face?" he teased me, his fingers tickling my sides ever so slightly.

I giggled in return, pushing myself against him to escape his fingers, my hands clutching at his shirt.

"Stop!" I squealed with a grin, and he gave me one back. His _real_ one, not a painful looking impression of it. He halted his roaming fingers, and smiled widely at me the entire ride up to our floor.

"So your birthday is coming up soon," he began as he tossed his keys onto the small table by the door.

"It is," I concurred, letting him help me out of my coat before he hung it up for me.

"Did you want to do anything special for it? Nothing big, of course," he hurried to add at the uncomfortable look on my face. "I just meant going out to dinner, maybe with Alice or Rose? Or we could go see a movie or a play... Whatever you'd like," he smiled his charming smile at me. He always just wanted to make me happy.

"I'll think on it," I told him, unsure if I actually wanted to do anything on the day in question. I wasn't sure whether or not I wanted to see how celebrating birthdays with Jacob could be different from celebrating them with Edward. My birthday was a special day to me.

"Emmett told me that Rose has been asking about you," he mentioned as we sat down on the couch together.

I nodded, not knowing what exactly to say. I knew that my old friends were still very much worried about me, but it was always difficult hanging out with them.

I remembered them, but that didn't make the situation less awkward. I didn't miss them while I was gone and Edward hadn't liked them, so I was convinced that I didn't either. Yes, I was aware that wasn't quite right, and that wasn't the way I should view things. It was another thing I was working on in therapy.

But I didn't see them often, and I knew that hurt their feelings, especially Rosalie; she lived in our building, after all, and I still hardly ever visited her.

"They invited us over for dinner tomorrow night if you'd like to go," Jake continued, and I realized that he was trying to make conversation with me. I'd hardly said a thing to him all night.

"That sounds nice," I told him, though it didn't, really. Emmett always made me nervous with his big, hulking frame, larger even than Jacob. Not to mention the fact that he was one of the people who broke in and took me from my life with Edward...

But that was how he met Rosalie, apparently. She and Jacob still spoke, and he was one of Jake's coworkers. Good for them, I thought, finding love in such a dismal situation. It seemed that the universe did indeed work in mysterious ways.

"Thank you," was his simple reply into my shoulder, knowing me perhaps better than I knew myself. He knew that I didn't really want to go, but that I was willing to do it for him.

"You're welcome," I returned, tilting my head to the side to give him permission to kiss me there, as I figured he wanted.

He did. Then he pulled away to smile at me, and I smiled back.

He wouldn't try to _really_ kiss me tonight. He didn't want to push me too far.

"What do you want to eat, hon?" he asked, standing up and turning away from me toward the kitchen. He had been making a habit of trying to cook for me, which I thought was sweet, even if he didn't have any real talent in the area.

"Pasta?" I asked in response, knowing it was something he felt comfortable making.

"Awesome," he called back cheerfully, and I couldn't help the upturn of my lips. He had such a good heart and such a smart head on his shoulders. I was lucky that he still wanted me after my time with Edward.

_(I am all you have, and I am all you'll ever need.)_

I shook my head. I _didn't_ need Edward anymore, and I didn't need to hear him in my head anymore.

_(Other people only cause harm, Bella.)_

No, that wasn't true. Jacob had done nothing but try to make me feel better, become better. He wouldn't—_couldn't—_hurt me in any way.

I stood up, feeling determined, and followed him into the kitchen. I found him opening up a package of penne pasta for our meal, and it spilled all over the floor when I grabbed his face between my hands and kissed him like I'd been thinking of doing all evening.

He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me up to sit on the counter. I used my legs to pull him closer to me and knitted my hands through his short hair, surprising myself with the knowledge that I knew it had once been long. _When was that?_

Our lips attacked each other as I rejoiced in my victory, having finally remembered something concrete about Jacob Black. I smiled brightly into the kiss, and my eyelids fluttered open to see his gaze fixed solidly on my face, eyes calculating my actions, even as his mouth responded to mine instinctively.

"It's okay," I murmured against his soft lips, and smiled again.

"It's okay," he repeated in a sigh, and leaned his head down on my shoulder as he had done earlier, breathing deeply. I tilted my head to the side again, seeing if he would pick up where he had left off.

And he did.

He kissed and sucked at my neck quite thoroughly, moving up to my jaw line, and down to my collarbones, over to my lips again, and even to just under my ear, causing me to giggle slightly at the ticklish feel there. My hands still played in his hair.

"When did you cut it?" I breathed out to him, pressing myself harder against him as his hands descended to caress my lower back.

"My hair?" he asked, pausing in the attentions he was giving me. He looked up with an incredulous look on his face, and I could hardly blame him. "When I entered the police academy. It got in the way with all the training exercises."

"I liked it long," I recalled.

"Yes, you did," he grinned, obviously just as pleased as I was that I remembered part of our past together. "I'm sorry I had to cut it," he said, the 1000-watt Jacob smile back in full force.

"I don't dislike your hair as it is," I replied. It was very soft, after all.

"I have to admit," he began, almost reluctantly, "I think I like yours, too."

I raised an eyebrow at him. He'd only mentioned my hair once in the last several months, and didn't seem to like that I had grown it out once I had told him why I did it.

"You've always been gorgeous, Isabella," he explained in a whisper, "and when you had shorter hair it accentuated that by showing off your absolutely stunning features." He paused to stroke my face affectionately, and my cheeks darkened at the compliment. "But when you wear it down like this, it makes you look much more delicate... I can't help but want to wrap myself around you and show you how beautiful you are either way."

"So you don't mind it being long, like it is now?" I confirmed as he used one hand to stroke his fingers through it. I wondered if I was only talking about my hair...

"No better or less than when you had short hair. I just found another reason to love it in a different way," he said, his hand now massaging through my scalp. I knew that he wasn't just just talking about my lengthy curls.

"Thank you, Jake..." I breathed out, not knowing what exactly I was thanking him for, but feeling grateful nonetheless.

"You don't need to thank me for anything," he insisted, showing me why I what I was feeling. "You're the one who's doing all the work here. You've come so far, Isabella," he praised me, and I sighed into his skin, folding my arms around his neck.

_This_ was what I had been craving all day. Acknowledgment that I was trying. That I was on track. That I wasn't falling behind anyone's expectations for my recovery. That I was wanted for what I was now just as much as I was wanted for what I was before, rather than because of it.

I smiled at him and he resumed his kissing of me. I basked in the glory of it, not even caring that pasta noodles were still scattered across the floor from my spontaneous act.

One of his hands continued to stroke through my hair, and the back of the other one softly rubbed against the skin of my sternum, bringing up goosebumps to the sensitive flesh there. It followed a natural path down as his lips returned to mine, and our tongues caressed each other smoothly, soothing me into what I knew was going to happen next.

His hand cupped my breast, squeezing lightly, and my first thought was about how _wrong_ it felt. I pulled away from him automatically, horrified with myself for letting my mind go _there_.

_(You are My Bella now. Never forget that.)_

_No!_ I thought desperately, still breathing heavily from my actions with Jacob.

"Isabella?" Jake asked softly, but I couldn't answer him.

_(Don't ever let anyone take you away from me, Bella.)_

_No!_ I mentally sobbed, already losing faith in myself.

"Isabella?" Jacob called, and I shook my head to clear it.

_(I'll always come for you, Bella. I love you always.)_

_Please, no..._

"Isabella!" he called a little louder, shaking my shoulder. I tore my eyes from the past and looked into his face. He looked worried.

"I'm so sorry..." I whispered, trying my best not to lower my face in shame. He felt very strongly about the fact that I should never be ashamed of myself, and he'd told me so many times.

_It wasn't my fault. I would get through this... I was strong enough._

I hoped.

"It's fine, honey," he said, hugging me tightly to his body. "I understand. It's alright, Isabella. We'll get through this."

I nodded helplessly against his chest.

I was kidding myself if I thought that I could ever be with Edward again. I _knew_ that I couldn't, and I _knew_ that I shouldn't.

I was with Jacob now, and he was the best thing that ever happened to me. I knew this for a fact, even without knowing our entire past together. He was perfect for me.

This life with him would be my last, and I _had_ to make the most of it. I couldn't let Edward ruin everything as he had before.

But how could I rally against him if he only existed to me in my mind? He was in jail, not here, and it was my fault for letting him so deep into the recesses of my brain in the first place.

I had to find a way to exorcise him from me.

I put a hand to Jacob's chest to back him away so I could hop down off the counter.

"I'm not really hungry anymore," I told him as I headed to our bedroom to think.

"I love you," he said in return, and I faltered in my steps before continuing on my path._ He finally said it_...

"I know," I replied, smiling kindly at him over my shoulder.

I _did_ know without a doubt in my mind, but it was still wonderful to hear it.

"I love you!" he called to me again as if he could read my mind. I turned around fully and saw him grinning at me as if I hadn't just hurt his feelings with my stupid reactions. "I love you, Isabella."

I couldn't help the blush that came over my cheeks and the way I shyly looked down at my feet before glancing back up at him through my eyelashes.

"I know you do," I repeated, biting my lip softly.

His bright eyes shined at me in response as I backed the rest of the way into our room, and then retreated into the bathroom to take a shower and wash away the negativity from the night, leaving only the happiness.

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**A lot of little bits of information in this chapter that will come into play later on in the story. Not a filler chapter, this one, even though there wasn't a hell of a lot of action.**

**Oh, and I wrote a rec for "Earthquake!" by Thallium81 on The Fictionators last week. Go check it out. The rec AND the story. :P**

**Song for next chapter will be "Sing For Absolution" by Muse, of course. Someone PMed me to ask that I let y'all know so you can listen to the song before actually reading the chapter. So there you go.**

**Feel free to leave your thoughts in a review, and visit me at Twitter (dot) com (slash) MuffNbutter. I talk about what I'm working on, and make silly jokes that probably only I understand. XD**

**~MuffN  
**


	6. Sing for Absolution

_**ABSOLUTION: noun: release from consequences, obligations, or penalties. **_

_**Syn: redemption, remission, salvation.**_

**Remember this word. As the title suggests, it will be a constant theme in this fic. Each of my three main characters are seeking absolution in their own personal ways.**

**Yes, this chapter is a couple weeks later than I said it would. That happens when you end up in and out of the hospital, have shoddy internet, and many car troubles springing up all at once. I won't waste your time explaining any more than that; I'll just let you get on with the chapter.**

**This chapter is for IcelandGirl812 and yanxxx who have done me the great courtesy of making a couple of awesome banners for this story! Check them out on my profile. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or its characters. I just enjoy finding strange and disturbing parallels in my own personal quest for justice :P

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**

**Stockholm Syndrome**

**Chapter 6: Sing For Absolution**

_There's nowhere left to hide__  
In no one to confide__  
The truth burns deep inside  
And will never die__  
Lips are turning blue  
A kiss that can't renew  
I only dream of you  
My beautiful  
Sing for absolution  
I will be singing  
And falling from your grace

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_

BPOV:

I saw Jacob's eyes wherever I went, doing their best to be understanding, yet never knowing what was going through my head. Not really. I knew he would do his best, but he couldn't possibly comprehend what I had been through—what I was _still_ going through—so I felt it almost wrong to confide in him. I would only be a burden, and I doubted it would help anything in the long run.

I knew that if I so chose, I could tell him everything I was thinking and feeling, and he would never think less of me for it. He loved me, astoundingly enough, and could sympathize, though he would never be able to truly _empathize_.

But the fact that he tried was touching, and I adored him for it. Possibly more than he knew.

He made a habit out of kissing me now, of which I didn't mind, and telling me he loved me often, of which I was very much grateful for. It truly astounded me how selfless he could be, doing what I needed him to do, and telling me what I needed to hear him say.

And also _not_ doing things that he thought might upset me.

He hadn't attempted to take our physical relationship to the next level since I had the breakdown the first time he tried, and I was both relieved and guilt-ridden over it. I didn't want to have another panic attack and I'd gotten so used to rarely hearing Edward's voice in my head, that I knew it would only hurt to have his words repeating in my head once more.

I also felt terrible, because I knew that Jake was a _man_, and men had _needs_. Needs which I wasn't doing anything to satisfy, as I couldn't let him even really touch me. I felt selfish, clutching the heartbreak I still felt close to me, and yet keeping Jake at a distance to his own detriment, and mine by association. When something was wrong with Jacob, it meant that something was wrong with me as well—his smile lit up my entire being, and his frown would always bring a grimace to my own face. He was my sunlight, these past several months.

Jacob never once complained or even commented on his lack of fulfillment, of course, but I knew from my time with Edward that it was only natural for him to be feeling unsatisfied, and that I should somehow assist him, but I wasn't sure if that was actually a feasible option.

Would I be able to touch him, and let him touch me in return? Was the problem that we hadn't eased into it initially, or was it deeper, something that couldn't be healed with something as ordinary as time? Was it because I was uncomfortable with the contact when Jake and I were still so new, or because it simply wasn't _Edward_ who was touching me that way?

I couldn't come up with an answer to my inner inquiries.

I heard the lock on the front door click loudly, bringing me out of my musing, and I walked out of the kitchen to meet Jacob in the hallway.

"Groceries!" he announced, holding up the mass of plastic bags in his hands in evidence, a dopey and lopsided smile gracing his lips. He really was so adorable.

I smiled back, kissed him lightly and took a couple of the bags from his burden, leading the way back into the kitchen.

"You have excellent timing," I began, unloading the bags. "I just finished emptying out the left-overs from the refrigerator."

"Mm, my timing is perfect," he reiterated with a grin, leaning over in his own unpacking to press his lips to mine happily. "Just like you are."

I blushed and put the eggs on the bottom shelf of the fridge. _He really loves me._

"I love you," he voiced my thoughts, grabbing my hand to help me stand again and leaning my backside against the counter.

"I adore you," I returned, pushing up on my toes to try to close the distance between us.

He hesitated, putting a hand on my ribs, close enough to my breasts to make my breathing shaky, but far enough so that no unwanted memories and emotions could interrupt our moment. I leaned forward again, and was met with words coming out of his mouth, rather than his sweet tongue.

"I know this is hard for you, Isabella, but you'll never know how happy I am that you're trying."

His eyes were serious and affectionate all at the same time. I couldn't help the way my eyes watered slightly, appreciating and adoring and admiring him and his words.

"I don't have to try, Jacob. I love being with you, and kissing you, and being held by you. I really do," I said, probably trying to convince myself just as much as him.

"I know," he replied, and the confidence in his words makes me smile lightly. His hands left my hips, and so I turned to continue putting the groceries away, but Jake didn't join me. Instead, he was fiddling around with a hand in his pocket when I turned to look at him.

I didn't want to ask him what he was playing with because I knew it was none of my business, so I just finished putting the perishable items where they belonged, and stocked the pantry with everything else. I nodded at my job well done in satisfaction, noting that Jake hadn't moved at all, still standing in the middle of the room, hand awkwardly in his pocket.

I turned back to the living room, intent on finding something to order out for the evening, as I knew Jacob was too preoccupied to cook or come up with a good reason why I shouldn't.

Italian take out sounded like an excellent idea...

"So Bella," he began, the nervousness in his voice making me anxious.

"Yes?" I asked, turning back to him. He merely gestured to the dining room table, so I sat down as he pulled my chair out for me, fidgeting slightly as I waited for him to seat himself opposite me.

He didn't say anything for a long while, and we sat in silence.

Then he awkwardly pulled a small box from the pocket he had been patting and playing with for the last several minutes.

I looked at it, my breath stopping in my throat and trying to pump right out of my chest.

That jewelry box was _so_ similar to the one that I was already given before...

Was that the ring that Edward gave me, the one that was taken away from me all those months before? Or was this a new one from Jacob? I knew we were engaged before I was taken and forgot him, but he had _just_ told me moments before that he knew how conflicted I was. He wouldn't really give such a thing to me after saying such things, would he?

"I'm not going to ask you any important questions right now," he promised, almost in response to my thoughts. It seemed that I was too easy to read, and there was nowhere for me to hide my thoughts from him after all; I should have just confided in him earlier. It was a scary thought, that one person could know me so well.

"But you know," he continued hesitantly, though ardent passion shined through in his eyes, "I've had this ring for years, Isabella. _Years._ I had it in my pocket the night you were taken away from me..."

I wanted to gasp, knowing that night was the one topic he hadn't ever encouraged me to talk about. I figured it was because it was painful for him to lose me like that, just like I knew I'd be hurt if I lost him, now that I had him again.

"I know that things aren't quite clear for you about back then, but I do remember it all. Every detail. And I want to share what I know with you, if you'd like."

He paused, staring at me, and I nodded for him to continue, all the while wondering if I should have been letting him tell me such things. Would it really help either of us to rehash such a painful—and unfortunately forgettable—part of the past?

He took a deep breath and both of us braced ourselves for his next words.

"It was your seventeenth birthday, and we'd been together since your thirteenth, when I took you outside to give you a break from your mom's party she was throwing you."

_I didn't like the fuss she put into it,_ I recalled, though didn't speak. I waited for him to tell me what I knew happened next.

"Once we were alone outside, you shocked the hell-" I barely winced at the words "-out of me by kissing me." he smiled widely at the memory, and I did, too, ecstatic both that he didn't notice my minor reaction to his casual use of a curse word, and also at the fact that I had known what he was going to say. It was another thing that I was _finally_ remembering.

I knew that I felt nervous back then, kissing him that first time, just as I did the first time I tried to kiss him after I was returned home to him.

"I thought I was so cool to have kissed an older boy... a high schooler no less! Even if he was just a freshman to my eighth grade," I confided with a grin, though tears of delight at yet another Jake memory ran down my cheeks as my lips trembled.

He beamed in response, and pulled me into a tight hug. I clung back to him, glad he could celebrate this step with me, despite my being unable to tell him of my achievement; he just knew that I was crying out of joy; he knew me so very well.

He wiped the happy tears from my face as he continued his story.

"So it was an anniversary of sorts, your seventeenth birthday. I thought I was being romantic, planning to present you with that ring when we got back from the club," he said, nodding to the closed box on the table in front of us. "You'd already said yes, of course, but I hadn't bought the ring because me asking you was so spur of the moment..."

At least I now knew it wasn't Edward's ring... and I felt that relief/pain that I always did when things like this came to pass. I was exceptionally glad that I wouldn't have to face another reminder of Edward, but I still recalled his words when he gave me that ring.

_(You are my Bella now. And I am your Edward.)_

I shook my head, knowing the falsehood of the statement and turned my head back to Jacob, and tried to infer what he was doing by showing me the ring if he didn't intend on proposing to me again.

He continued where he had left off, unaware what about the unintentional trigger he had inflicted upon me. I couldn't ever tell him, not when he was pouring his heart out to me. He just continued where he had left off, not knowing I had taken pause in listening to his words of our past.

"You had thoroughly pissed-" I couldn't help flinching at the vulgar word, and Jake's face fell slightly as he recognized my reaction that time, but he kept talking as if nothing happened, "-Alice off by refusing to wear the fancy clothes she had picked out for you, and you were mad at her because she hid all your shoes from you in retaliation so you had to wear heels out that night. Rosalie _helpfully_ offered a pair of her stilettos to aid you, as all of Alice's shoes would have been to small for you."

I laughed at his words, wishing once again I'd taken more of an effort to get to know Alice and Rose all over again. We'd gone out together a few times since my return, but it was always an awkward experience; we hadn't made much progress in becoming friends once more. I wondered now how much of it was because of me and my lack of interest. Hearing about how silly we used to be together made me regret that I hadn't been completely open to the idea of renewing our friendship. I decided that I'd try harder from then on.

"And we were out and having a great time together," he continued after a moment, letting me have the time I needed to process his words about the girls who were once my best friends. "Alice and Jasper were attached at the hip like always, and Rose was clinging to you, because we all knew how shy she is in public venues, no matter how much she tried to hide it."

I looked at him in interest. Rose was shy? She didn't seem it... Had she gotten over that, or was it an act? She acted so brazen the few times I'd spent time with her, but was it all just bravado? Putting on a brave face like I had been doing?

"And you had me wrapped around your finger the whole night," Jacob smiled sweetly at me, seeming to treasure this early part of the memory. I'm sure I would have as well if I could recall the incident as he could. "Fetching drinks for you, holding your wallet, wearing a heavy coat that I didn't need just in case _you_ got cold later on and wanted it... You knew I was your slave for the evening, and you took advantage of it," he said with a smirk, and I giggled lightly in return. This part was a good memory for him.

And then his smile faded.

"I wanted you to have the perfect night, because I wanted you to _remember_ it as such when I gave you that ring."

I gulped, glancing at the box warily again.

"I'm not going to ask you to marry me tonight, Isabella," he reiterated. "But I _am_ letting you know my intentions. I know you're not ready to be with me fully and that you may never be... But I want you to know that I'm in this. For the long haul. I'll always be there for you, and I'll always love you."

He he stared intently at me, looking nervous for my reaction. I couldn't really blame him, the way he opened himself up so fully to me when I couldn't say the same things back to him.

"Thank you," I whispered sadly to him. His cautious look faded at my words and he smiled warmly back at me.

"This ring will be waiting for you, whenever you want it," he said softly, placing it at the center of the dining room table before he walked away, giving me the moment alone I needed.

I didn't even open in the box. I _couldn't_ look.

I didn't need to see whether the ring was gold or platinum, square or round, perfect for me or if it would just make me feel like a horrible person if I couldn't love it because it wasn't the ring Edward had given me.

I was probably being selfish; after all, I'd been worrying about burdening Jacob with my truths and confusions, when he faced the past he'd always avoided just to make me feel better. He never needed to say that he didn't like thinking about that happy night because of the way it ended for me to know it was the truth.

But he told me, and he made me smile with him about it, and he did it, just so that I might have a better understanding of it, rather than the brief words Edward had spoken to me about our first night together.

He'd told me that he saved me from ruffians who meant me harm while I was drunk. That my chaperone for the evening didn't care about my safety. That no one would have cared for me if he hadn't spirited me out of the wretched place where he'd found me.

He'd lied to suit his own purposes.

And I felt that I made even more progress, astonishingly enough. I believed Jacob over Edward without a doubt. Jacob wouldn't lie so blatantly to me, especially about something as important as our last night together before I was taken away. He would tell me the truth because he believed in me—believed I was strong enough to handle whatever truths were burning deep inside of him.

Edward didn't like the idea of lies, but he told them frequently out of what he deemed necessity. He had to, to keep us hidden so well for so long.

Suddenly I wanted to slap myself.

Jacob had just proclaimed his love for me, telling me that he would wait forever if I needed that long to love him again. And I could only think of Edward.

_(Don't ever let anyone take you away from me, Bella.)_

I shook my head to clear, hating myself more than a little bit.

And I was ashamed to admit that I still dreamed of Edward every night, though as the distress faded from Jacob's face each morning, I knew that I wasn't speaking in my sleep anymore. He had no idea that I dreamed of Edward still—anything from happily making dinners for Edward and myself to the banal concept of knitting as I wondered how his day was going to his intense gaze as we expressed our carnal desires...

_(You are my Bella now. Never forget that.)_

I closed my eyes tightly, trying to forget his words, and how his kisses always made me happy, filling me with his presence after spending a day alone in my room.

I didn't know at the time that there was anything wrong with never meeting another individual, and now I didn't even know if his greeting kisses made my lips tingle in excitement because of him or because I was so lonely without him. Alone.

It would be both a lie and a truth to say that I hoped I'd never kiss him again to find out.

I couldn't help the way I longed for Edward, but I knew that would pass with time. The feeling was already somewhat diminished from the hole that I felt in my gut at first parting with him. And I didn't even have to forget him for it to happen.

But I also logically knew that Edward was a truly terrible person, and I didn't want him anywhere near me. I feared what both of our reactions would be if we saw each other again.

Jacob deserved someone better for him but he chose me, and I would do my best to absolve myself from my traitorous thoughts to be someone who could love him the way he was meant to be loved. He was smart, funny, strong mentally and physically, handsome, and just so completely kind and caring.

He deserved more than I could give him, but I knew he would never stray to anyone else, even if I sent him away. He'd waited seven years, never knowing if he'd see me again, after all, so the least I could do was try to be better for him.

If I really loved him, I'd do my best to take care of all his needs.

I didn't know if I loved him, but I adored and admired him. I'd start with simply trying, and see how things went from there.

I left the ring box sitting on the smooth surface of the table, ridiculously almost skirting around the edge of the dining room in my attempt to avoid it, and followed Jake to where he'd retired to the bedroom. He wasn't in there, but I saw the light on under the bathroom door and could hear the shower running.

I took a deep breath, wondering if I should really approach him while he was in there. Naked and wet.

I delved in, knocking on the door as I opened it, stepping in and closing the door behind me.

"Isabella?" he asked, poking his head around the shower curtain. "Do you need something, honey?"

I didn't answer verbally, instead stripping off my shirt before I lost my nerve.

His jaw literally dropped, and his hand went slack against the towel rack, no longer reaching for the terrycloth material in case I needed him.

I blushed while ignoring his shocked reaction, undoing the button on my jeans and shimmying out of them.

Baby steps seemed to be helping, slowly but surely. I, however, was wondering how well big steps would work for Jacob and I.

I stepped closer to his still form and grabbed his hand, pressing it to my breast, holding my breath and hoping that I wouldn't break down again, and that I could finally take this next step with Jacob. that I could make him happy, and finally, fully move on.

If it was possible. I hoped I would be able to fly with Jacob, rather than fall.

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**ANY LEGAL PROFESSIONALS IN THE HOUSE, YO? Let me know in a review, I have a question for you, perhaps, lol.**

**I suggest y'all read _The Shop at the Corner of Twilight_ by IcelandGirl812 or _Flight 2804_ by movieandbookgirl. Both are amazing stories written by amazing people who both just recently updated ^.^**

**Inspiration/song rec for next chapter: Apocalypse Please by Muse, of course. :)**

**Feel free to review and let me know your thoughts, y'all.**

**Much love!  
**


	7. Apocalypse, Please

**Ahem. I noticed in reviews that a lot of you were bothered by Bella's motivation for getting physical with Jacob, and there were two main points. First, y'all were worried that she would have sex with Jacob just to prove a point to herself. Yes, that's something she's trying to do, but I promise that she won't follow through on that reasoning alone—my Jake would never let her.**

**And secondly, some of you were concerned that she was only doing it because she felt pressured to. In a way this is true, though Jacob himself would never do such a thing. Bella is used to living in another world still, remember, and I know it's hard for some of you to acknowledge this, but SSA-Ward isn't perfect. He led her to believe outdated ideas about women pleasing men, and she assumed that same state of mind with Jacob unknowingly. It's not Jacob's fault, and it's not Bella's, either. It's just the way it is. **

**I appreciate you all for being astute enough to point these things out in your reviews :D**

**Thanks to IcelandGirl812 and Nayarit for letting me promise to get this chapter out to them, and therefore kicking my ass into high gear. this chapter is for you, two XD**

**Now, it's been a while since the last one, I know, and I apologize. I won't give excuses, but merely get into the chapter now. We're half done with the fic already! :O**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Twilight or its characters. I just find strange and disturbing parallels in my own quest for justice :P**

**Oh, and just so y'all know, the chapter is pretty much all sex ;)

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**Stockholm Syndrome**

**Chapter 7: Apocalypse Please**

_Proclaim eternal victory  
__Come on and change the course of history__  
And pull us through  
And pull us through  
And this is the end  
This is the end of the world

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_

BPOV:

I was throwing everything I had gained in the last several months on the line.

This enormous step I was taking with Jacob might have been our salvation, or it might have sent me back to square one, but I just _knew_ that it needed to be done.

So I pressed his hand to my breast and held my breath; waiting, hoping, praying that this was a good idea, that this wouldn't make me break down again.

Nothing happened. No voice in my head telling me to stop, no tears that this wasn't _his_ hand. Nothing regarding _him_ in the least.

It seemed Jake was also waiting for a freakout from me, because both of our faces broke into wide grins at the same moment, his out of happiness for me and mine out of pride for accomplishing this step.

I stepped over the bathtub as he reached his other arm out to me and we were suddenly embracing and touching and kissing as the hot water streamed over our bodies, lost in the moment of excitement, achievement, and just overall passion.

It was intense—I had no recollection of ever being with Jacob in a way like this before, but the lack of knowledge didn't inhibit me in any way. On the contrary, I felt an urge almost as strong as my lust for him to replay this action of our pasts, hoping that maybe it would bring more memories to me, as kissing him had done before.

I eagerly reached behind me and unclasped my bra, hardly hearing the wet _thwack_ that echoed in the steaming bathroom as the wet garment hit the ground. Jake responded with equal fervor, his hands grasping my face and neck as he kissed me hard, pulling me against his slick body. I wrapped my arms around him in return, both to keep my balance as well as to bring me even closer, my fingers not strong enough to hold him as hard as I wanted to.

"Isabella," he gasped into my mouth before pulling his lips off of mine, a wide smile making his entire face glow. "Isabella, as happy as having you here right now makes me, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave my shower before either I explode or do something that you'll regret."

Even amidst the passion and desire, he still paused to think about my comfort and needs. How could I ever leave him like this when he so obviously cares for me?

I kissed his chest over his heart. "How could I regret giving myself to you when all you've ever done is give your everything to me?" I asked him in return, one hand rubbing his chest and the other reaching down to massage him.

"Isabella..." he groaned again, his left hand reaching around my back to press me harder into him and his right one banging a solid fist against the tiled wall.

"You've been so patient with me for so long, and I know that you must have been extremely frustrated. I thank you for waiting as long as you have for me to help you overcome that," I told him as I went to kneel on the wet floor. "I should have done something about it sooner, I know..."

His hands were suddenly stopping me, gripping me around the waist and pulling me back upright.

His smile was gone, and therefore so was mine.

"Did I... do something wrong?" I whispered, looking at the water circling around our feet and trying not to cry. I _hated_ that I felt so inexperienced all the sudden; I'd just been doing what I'd always done... with _him._

"Isabella Marie Swan, look at me," he said sternly and I did so, feeling more than a little heartbroken and utterly rejected. "Don't you ever—_EVER!—_try to do anything like this just for me. Do you hear me?" he asked in the harshest voice he'd ever used with me, gripping my chin when I tried to look away.

"Yes," I said quietly.

I felt so stupid, and I didn't even know what I had done to upset him so much. The tears started to fall freely.

"I don't _ever_ want you thinking that it's your _job_-" he spat out the word as if it disgusted him "-to do something like that. It. Fucking. Isn't."

Jacob had never spoken in that tone to me before, or looked so angry... And I think the way he was looking at me shocked me enough that Edward's words in my head were a faint whisper in the background, rather than taking up the forefront of my mind.

_(Using such vulgar words in the presence of a lady is a sin punishable by death. Better vernacular would be spoken by a gentleman.)_

"I don't understand," I told him honestly, wrapping an insecure arm across my chest as the water continued to pelt us.

"It isn't your responsibility to do... that... for me. Especially if you're just trying to pay me back for being so kind to you. I would _never_ demean you by taking advantage of you like that," he explained, much less anger in his voice than before.

"But I know that a man has needs," I tried explaining to him in return, wanting him to know what I was thinking. "I don't mind taking care of them, really. You deserve it for putting up with me and all my issues."

A flash of hostility flashed in his eyes again, but it was gone almost as soon as it arrived. He put his arms around me and pulled me closer into his body, wrapping me in his embrace and folding himself into me. I slipped my arms up his back and held onto his shoulders, grateful that he still wanted me even though we were in a disagreement.

"That's exactly my point, Isabella," he whispered in my ear. "This—us making love—shouldn't be about taking care of needs or as a reward of some sort just because I love loving you. It's not about _you_ doing something for _me_, it's about _both of us_ and expressing our mutual affection and desire for one another. I just can't let us go any farther if you think it's only about you satisfying my needs and ignoring your own. Do you get what I'm saying?" he asked softly, one of his hands gently entwined in my hair and the other caressing my bare hip lightly.

"Yeah," I told him, following his lead and rubbing him shoulder blades. "I get it."

"Good," he said, leaning to turn off the water. "Now let's get dressed, shall we?"

I continued to hold him to me tightly for a moment and after a brief pause, I said, "No, let's not."

If I'd thought that the way he loved and cared for me before was enough for me to want to give myself to him, the way he did it all over again _and_ proved his selflessness made me want to do this _with him_ all the more. I understood the difference he'd pointed out, and he was completely right. I'd been misled in the past, though I tried not to focus on _that_ as I placed kiss after kiss on his jawline.

"I get it," I repeated when his frame stiffened in response. "Really, I do. It's not about letting you have your way with me for being so kind—it's about me appreciating all that you've done for _us_, and wanting to take that _us_ to the next level and show how we feel for each other."

"I love you more than words can express," he told me as he pulled back to look into my eyes.

"I treasure you more and more every day," I whispered honestly in return. A small smile hinted at the corner of his mouth, and I smiled in return.

I stood on my tippy-toes to reach his lips again. He obliged, kissing me softly at first until I led us into a deeper kiss, my tongue pushing into his mouth and leading his tongue back into mine. My neck arched with the force of the kiss, and I enjoyed every second of it.

I finally had to pull away for a breath of air and stood, heaving against his chest as his lips placed small kisses on my neck.

"Let's go to the bed," I told him, my cheeks blushing as I said the words.

"Why?" he prodded, continuing his gentle showering of affection.

My cheeks grew even darker as I prepared to say my next words. They embarrassed me, but I knew that he needed to hear them as reassurance that he wouldn't be taking advantage of me.

"Because I want you, Jacob Black. I want your hands and lips all over me, and I want to do the same to you. And because it's too cold here without the hot water on."

"You're a selfish creature," he chuckled against my collarbone and I could feel the smile on his lips. "It would be an honor, my love."

He slid open the curtain to allow me to exit. I lifted a leg to step out slipped on the wet floor.

Jake tried to catch me, but with our bodies so wet he lost his grip and fell as well, making us a laughing, tangled heap on the bathroom floor.

_(Falling only happens when no one is there to catch you.)_

I shook my head at the faint voice. Its words weren't necessary, and it was incorrect to begin with.

I didn't mind falling with Jacob.

"Now I know... why they say... shower sex... is a bad idea," he let out between deep bursts of laughter, and I giggled along with him.

"Especially with me being as clumsy as I am. Remember when we were making out on the couch in high school and I hit my head on the lamp and got a concussion? That was hard to explain to our parents," I recalled with a snort.

He pinned me down and kissed me again, long, wet, and leaving me panting. "I definitely remember, and I'm glad you do, too," he said with glee in his eyes.

I gasped and put a hand to my mouth. I'd _remembered_ another moment with Jacob, and I did it without trying—it was like it was only natural to recall such a time, which it really was.

Jacob stood up and offered me a hand, holding onto me tightly enough to make a giggle escape me until we were both on the non-slippery carpet floor of the bedroom, when he proceeded to pick me up and toss me onto the center of the bed.

I grinned brightly as he climbed on top of me, his forearms resting on either side of his head as he leaned down to kiss me yet again. I ardently returned the kiss, my legs spreading and knees bending as Jake nestled his body in between my thighs and I wrapped my arms across his torso, pushing him and his pleasant weight against my body.

"Jake!" I let out in a gasp when I felt one of his hands slip into my panties that were still sopping from wearing them in the shower earlier, a finger running the length of my slit.

"Are you sure you want this, Isabella?" He asked me seriously, his fingers lightly brushing across the moisture he found. "I don't just mean physically, I mean mentally. Do you really want me to touch you and kiss you everywhere, to make love to you? I need to know, my Isabella."

I looked deeply into his eyes, really thinking about his question as I knew he wanted me to.

"Yes," I told him, no doubt in me at all. "I want this very much."

"I'm glad," he said, his eyes shining at me.

He continued caressing and stroking me as his lips and teeth played at my neck, making me squirm and moan underneath him. Just when I thought I was at the cusp of ecstasy, he stopped, barely giving me a chance to pout at him before he slid down my body, removing my panties as he went. Seeing where it was going, I suddenly didn't mind his halting before he finished any longer.

I was shocked, however, when he paused with his head between my legs on his way back up my body.

Nobody had ever done that before, and I was self conscious, not wanting his face _right there_ on me. What if he didn't like it?

"Jake, you don't-"

"Relax, Isabella," he smiled at me, once more parting my legs I'd just closed. "I only thought that I'd go first, considering how you don't seem to have any issues with going down. We're equals after all, right?"

I nodded hesitantly, and he smiled encouragingly at me, running his hands up and down my inner thighs to calm me down as I lay back down awkwardly.

He started with his hands again, slowly working me up and soothing me until I didn't jump when I felt his hot breath on my skin, his stubble scratching my flesh, and then his tongue stroking against my already swollen and sensitive bundle of nerves.

That first touch almost did me in—my mouth fell open, the toes on my right foot curled and felt warm, and I let a very feminine and I'm sure awkward sounding groan.

"How do you like that, Isabella? Do you want more?" he asked me in a throat voice.

"Yes. No. I don't know. Yes."

"It's alright, Isabella. I gotcha, honey. You asked for my lips to be all over you, and your wish is my command," he replied softly, gently rubbing my legs again, calming me from the overwhelming sensation of his mouth before he plunged right back in, that skillful tongue of his licking at my clit as one of his hands moved from my leg to insert two fingers slowly inside of me.

"Jake... Jake..." I moaned out, not able to say anything except his name.

I didn't know what to do with my hands, first uselessly reaching down to try to grasp onto his shoulders, then gripping the wooden bed frame over my head, clutching desperately at the bedspread underneath me, grabbing at my hair, my breasts... I needed something to hold on to to prepare for the explosion I knew was coming, and everything felt so good, but not good enough as his mouth breathed and pressed into me and his fingers steadily gained speed moving in and out of me until-

"Oh God... Oh God! Jacob! There! There! Oh my god!"

My vision went white, my entire body seemed to contract and then forcefully expand, and I was left out of breath with a smile on my face.

"I take it you liked that?" Jacob asked as he crawled back up my body, cuddling into my side. I nodded, unable to form coherent words. "Hm, that doesn't seem very enthusiastic. We'll just have to keep trying until I get it right then," he smirked, and I grabbed his arm to stop him from moving away from our position.

"No," I told him, my wits starting to come back to me. "I have a better plan."

"Oh, and what's that?" he grinned at me.

"Mm, I guess I'll show you," I told him with a confidence that I didn't know I had in me, rolling on top of him.

I kissed him again, shocked at the taste in his mouth but no less turned on by it, as I straddled his abdomen, my hands roaming over his chest, arms, and into his hair. A thought flashed through my mind, and I didn't know if I was remembering doing the same actions when he had long hair, or if I was just wondering what it would have been like.

I didn't dwell on it, focusing instead on the way he palmed my breasts, gently fondling as he explored my body anew, and I his. After he sufficiently worked me up again, he broke our kiss, leaving me gasping and moaning as he lowered his mouth to one exposed peak. He pressed his hands harder into my back, holding me in place while he nipped at the skin and sucked my nipple into his mouth. He chuckled at the moan I let out and merely switched sides.

"God, Jake, how many orgasms are you trying to make me suffer through?" I joked weakly between moans, my hands once again not able to find purchase in one spot.

"I'm trying to turn you into goo," he confessed against my breast with a twinkle in his eye, one hand sliding down my back, giving my bottom a light squeeze, and coming between us to push inside me once more.

I exhaled loudly into the top of his head, crying out a moment later when a well aimed nip coupled with the curling of his fingers caused me to come undone once more.

I rolled off of him and onto my back once more, catching my breath.

"That wasn't exactly what I meant when I said that I had a better idea," I told him.

"I know," he said with a smirk, "but it was worth it, right?"

"Most definitely," I sighed as I turned to him with a grin. "What I was thinking was more like this..." I trailed off as I reached over to grab his erection that he had been ignoring in favor of attending to me since the moment I stepped into the shower with him.

The groan he let out at the touch was loud and deep, and it vibrated against my neck as he buried his face there.

"Oh, God, I hope you're still on the pill, baby, because I wasn't thinking to buy condoms at the grocery store this afternoon," he told me in a rough voice.

"I am," I sighed into his mouth, swallowing down the saliva in my mouth at the sexy tone of his voice. "What would you say if I wasn't?"

"I'd say 'let's make a baby,'" he teased with a wide grin on his face. "I'll guess that we'll just have to wait a few years until we're married now, though."

I beamed at him in response. He'd been so serious earlier, and now he was joking, having every confidence in the world that I would be in a position to say yes to a proposal from him in the future. He had faith in me, had faith in the _us_ we were creating. I felt like my happiness would bubble over, because if Jacob believed in me, how could I not believe in myself as well? I trusted his opinion more than anyone else, possibly even my own.

"Yeah, no babies for us yet," I agreed with him, making his answering grin a mile wide as he comprehended my plans for the future, however far off it might be.

It was with those hopeful words that he settled his hips between my legs, my hands caressing the strong muscles of his back as he finally pushed his self into me, us both letting out simultaneous groans of pleasure at that final connection. He didn't move for a moment as he simply stared into my eyes, and if I somehow managed to doubt his love for me before, I wouldn't ever have been able to again after I saw the emotions displayed for me there.

He loved me. He desired me. He worried for me. He was _proud_ of me.

He kept those expressive eyes on me as he slowly pulled out, not even blinking as he thrust back inside, slowly, but hard.

"Ung, Jake," I let out, already moaning under him as his deep breathing resonated in my ear.

"I love hearing you say my name like this, Isabella," he whispered before leaving open mouthed kisses along my jaw, neck, and just behind my ear.

"I love that you love it, Jacob Andrew Black," I returned in a breathy sigh as his hips continued to rock against mine.

"Then you'll really love this, Isabella Marie Swan," he chuckled, grabbing one of my legs and lifting it higher, hitching it over his hip as he continued to move.

"Jacob!" I let out, shocked at the way he was able to move so much deeper inside of me at the small adjustment, my entire body swaying in time with his as he moved faster and faster, our breathing picking up.

"I knew... you'd like... that," he told me between wet kisses. I could only nod fervently in agreement, my mouth searching for his whenever it parted from mine.

All the while, I felt a power building inside of me, seeming to claw at the walls of my lower abdomen to escape until suddenly it wouldn't be kept at bay any longer.

I exploded, letting out a loud scream in response as sensation after sensation bubbled through me... desire, passion, lust, satisfaction, and possibly even a little bit of love. All of it overwhelmed me until I felt Jacob give a low groan as well, my name escaping his lips, when he released inside of me, my climax pushing the warmth farther into my body as my muscles slowly calmed.

"Uh... wow," I panted out.

"Is that all you can say?" he gasped in return, amusement prevalent in his eyes. "I suppose that's a good thing on my part."

"Oh, shut up. You're so cocky," I teased in return.

"That I am," he confessed with a smirk as he pulled out of me. We both moaned at the friction on our sensitive skin.

We were quiet for a moment as our breathing settled once more.

"Are you alright, Isabella?" he asked me gently, looking deep into my eyes and rubbing his hand across my stomach.

"Better than alright," I smiled at him honestly, placing my hand atop his.

The doorbell ringing cut off his reply.

"Who could- oh... Oh! We were supposed to have Emmett and Rose over for dinner tonight!" he exclaimed with a surprised look on his face. He looked back and forth between me and the open doorway before kissing me lightly on my lips, deciding, "I'll tell them we have to cancel. I'll be right back."

Then he jumped out of bed and hurried to shrug on some shorts as he ran out of the room, closing the bedroom door behind him. I smiled as I wrapped the sheet around myself, pulling the door back open a crack to see his encounter.

"Dude! Why aren't you dressed?" I heard Emmett ask, and I couldn't help the wide grin from resurfacing on my face.

"And why are there scratches on your back?" I heard Rosalie add. I gasped in shock, squinting at his form until I actually could see the light pink lines there and wondered when I'd done that to him. Whenever it was, he hadn't seemed to mind.

"I, uh, I think we need to reschedule this dinner," Jacob said in return, and from his voice I knew that his smile matched mine—a mile wide.

Emmett's chuckling and Rosalie's giggling told me that they knew exactly why we were postponing. I was a little embarrassed at their knowledge of our intimate activities, but had no reason to deny it.

A couple more minutes of conversation, and Jake was approaching the door again, his eyes sparkling in delight as he noticed me watching him.

He took my hand and led me back to the bed, where we spent the rest of the evening talking as we never had before. I told him more details about Edward, and he told me more of our life together before I was taken. There was no judgment in our gazes, and no doubt in our expressions.

We both knew that I still wanted Edward—our actions unfortunately hadn't changed that—and we'd hope that time would continue to mend that wrong, but we still basked in the new truth that I wanted Jacob as well.

The very thought was a victory I wanted to proclaim at the top of my lungs. I wanted Jacob. It was a thought that I knew to be a truth, fully and completely, and I had thought it all on my own without any verbal prodding from another source.

I wanted Jacob Black and he wanted me, too. I could actually _be_ with him, both in a mental and physical manner, and it wouldn't be the least bit unhealthy. I couldn't wait to share the news with my psychologist, Dr. Cullen.

This one thought seemed to change everything, not just about my relationship with Jake, but about myself as well. The knowledge that I could want anyone other than Edward was a shock to me, one that I embraced, as it was further proof that Edward had been lying to me.

_(Other people only cause harm, Bella. There's nobody else you can trust. I am all you have, and I am all you'll ever need.)_

He was wrong, and I couldn't have been happier by the fact. This one absolute truth—Edward was a liar—cemented even further the fact that everything we'd shared was probably a lie as well... My entire history was incorrect, and the course I had been set on by him for all those years was inexplicably changing as well.

I wouldn't have had it any other way, now that I was closer to being in my right mind.

Edward had always encouraged me to read and be well-learned, teaching me everything he knew, and providing me with study materials for the things he didn't, and one book flashed through my mind at this epiphany: an etymology.

When people hear the word "apocalypse" they usually thought of it to mean the end of the world due to modern uses of the it, but that wasn't the origins of the word. An apocalypse was really an astounding revelation or change that effected the entire world.

That one sentence... _I want Jacob_... That sentence both changed and ended the world I'd been living in, thrusting me into a new world, one I had been trying to get to for a very long time, though I'd been too scared of never finding it to really attempt to do so in earnest.

Looking at Jacob as he wrapped himself protectively around me, sharing secrets and truths with one another, I smiled.

Apocalypse?

_Yes, please.

* * *

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**Do not fear, you crazy people who still want Edward in the picture, lol. He'll be back... ;)**

**Song rec for next chapter: _the Small Print_ by Muse. It's the inspiration for next chapter :D**

**And check out my new oneshot: _Crossroads_. It features a DevilWard... not just a devilish Edward ;)**

**Let me know your thoughts in a review! I'm very curious what you all thought about this chapter XD**

**Much Love,**

**MuffN  
**


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